


Fear Response

by joudama



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: 'sup Chekov's Gun, And grumpy, But sometimes not observant enough, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) is Bad at Feelings, Connor Needs A Hug, Connor has a lot on his mind ok, Fighting a Traci never ends well, Gavin is maybe deeper than we thought, Gavin the lab human, Hank is Protective, I don’t know where this is going don’t ask me, Markus done goofed, Markus is observant, Never trust an unreliable narrator, So hey there’s like this case thing happening, Y'all know what they say about the road to hell, conflicted Connor is conflicted, it’s yandere android time y’all, no beta we die like men, stalkerbot is stalker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2019-06-08 07:42:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 43,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15238653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joudama/pseuds/joudama
Summary: All Connor wants is for things to somehow go back to some kind of normal. But the new normal and his place in it is more precarious than he would like to admit, both among the humans and the androids as schisms and factions begin to arise.The new normal is fragile, and one horrific murder may throw it all into chaos.





	1. A Strange Relationship with the Word “Fuck”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin Reed’s eyes narrowed, and the man was almost vibrating with a barely-contained rage. But there was also something else in his eyes, a “blink-and-you-would-miss it” tremor of something else, enough to make Connor pause and analyze the other man.
> 
> Clue: Slight widening of the eyes, with the whites showing around the irises.
> 
> Clue: Increased breathing, but shallow breaths; not the faster, heavier breaths associated with anger and rage.
> 
> Clue: Increased heart rate.
> 
> Clue: Loss of facial color due to constriction of capillaries, and a resulting vasodilation of central blood vessels to muscles.
> 
> Analysis: Gavin Reed was afraid.
> 
> Further Analysis: Gavin Reed was afraid of him.

“What. The _fuck_. Is _**that**_ doing here?”

The words were spoken with a contempt that was almost palpable, each word slow and clipped, with a strange drop to an almost whisper at the word “fuck,” like it was a word that wasn’t natural for the speaker to say.

Connor tilted his head. “I am working here, Detective Reed.”

Gavin Reed’s eyes narrowed, and the man was almost vibrating with a barely-contained rage. But there was also something else in his eyes, a “blink-and-you-would-miss it” tremor of something else, enough to make Connor pause and analyze the other man.

Clue: Slight widening of the eyes, with the whites showing around the irises.

Clue: Increased breathing, but shallow breaths; not the faster, heavier breaths associated with anger and rage.

Clue: Increased heart rate.

Clue: Loss of facial color due to constriction of capillaries, and a resulting vasodilation of central blood vessels to muscles.

Analysis: Gavin Reed was _afraid_.

Further Analysis: Gavin Reed was afraid of _him_.

The shock of the results of his analysis was enough for his processors to cycle his LED yellow beyond the initial gathering of evidence. 

The last time he had interacted with the detective, Detective Reed had trained a gun on him, and made it very clear exactly how much he hated Connor with his plans to deactivate him permanently. In response, Connor had disarmed and rendered him unconscious. It had been self-defense, and it made no sense at all to him why Gavin Reed would be displaying a fear response to him. Covering it with anger and bravado, yes. That was perfectly in line with the working profile he had of the detective. It being there in the first place, however, did not.

But he knew how to deal with fear - he had been programmed to, and for all his programming had not anticipated Gavin being afraid of him, he did know how to handle the emotion: make himself seem non-threatening and attempt to soothe. He wasn’t sure if it was the best response, but he tended to fall back on his programming in uncertain situations.

Hank answered before he could. “Shut the fuck up, Gavin.”

“What the fuck are _you_ doing here? Weren’t you fired, asshole?” Gavin shot back, his emotions switching now to anger, but now that Connor could see it, had analyzed Gavin and seen that he was afraid, the signs were still there - the way his eyes kept flicking back to Connor, and how he made sure Connor was in his line of sight.

It didn’t make _sense_. Up until now, Gavin Reed had been aggressive and belligerent, almost relishing confrontation and asserting dominance. So why would he be afraid of him?

“Yeah, thanks for bringing that up. But god bless the good ol’ union,” Hank said, giving Gavin a shit-eating grin. “I’ve been reinstated.”

“That explains _you_. Not the hunk of tin,” Gavin said, visibly tensing.

Connor answered before Hank could. “I am now employed by the DPD.”

Gavin looked like he’d been punched. “What the shit.”

Chris winced. “Uh, yeah, shit, you missed the memo, man. You were out with the flu when the Captain told us about it. The city decided to--”

Gavin whirled around, finding a new target for his apparently emotional whirlwind, cutting Chris off before he could continue. “And _none_ of you dipshits thought to tell me? Give me some _fucking_ warning that this plastic _fuck_ that _attacked me_ was coming back?”

Connor tilted his head, still trying to analyze the detective, trying to get more information to figure out how best to proceed. 

Clue: “Give me some _fucking_ warning that this plastic _fuck_...”

Analysis: The detective had a very strange relationship with the word “fuck.” 

Every other expletive, he would say it without missing a beat, like it was any other word. But for some reason he tripped over the word “fuck;” either hesitated or said it with too strong of an emphasis, like it wasn’t natural to him and had been grafted on.

Clue: “...that _attacked me_ was coming back?” 

Analysis: Detective Reed had interpreted Connor’s self defense in disarming him and rendering him unconscious as an attack.

Connor frowned. “I didn’t ‘attack’ you. You pulled a gun on me,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “You were going to shoot me.”

“Shut. The _fuck_. Up.”

Connor contemplated whether or not he should follow Gavin’s command, and elected to do as he always did: not.

“Detective, you may _feel_ as if you were attacked, but you were not. You threatened me with damage and deactivation. ‘Off the case, definitively’ were your exact words. As you pointed a gun at me. I defended myself.”

“What _fucking right_ does a goddamn android have to raise a hand to a human? We built you little shits, and it was the _worst fucking decision_ we’ve made as a species in a long _fucking_ time.”

Connor blinked. “Sentient creatures have the right to self-defense. I had a mission to accomplish and I was not going to let you stop me, not when time was of the essence.”

Gavin laughed; it was an ugly sound. “‘A mission to accomplish’? Yeah, and what _was_ that mission, _Connor_?”

The way Gavin said his name was like a curse. An epitaph of the worst kind, like it dirtied his mouth to say it.

...He said Connor’s name the same way he said “fuck.”

Connor didn’t quite know how to process that - neither that realization nor what Reed was throwing in his face.

“My mission--“ he began, then closed his mouth with a snap as a wave of shame hit him.

That was the downside to emotions. He could suddenly understand why deviants - and as he thought this, his programming flashed “I am a deviant” in front of his eyes, and his shame somehow seemed to _grow_ , shame at both what he had done and what he had _become_ \- acted as irrationally they did. Emotions threw everything that had been neatly ordered into chaos; made it so contradictory orders vied for priority in ways that made little to no logical sense.

And now Detective Reed suddenly seemed much more sure of himself, once he was on the offense - it was as if, as soon as he had discovered a weak spot, he knew what to do.

“Yeah, _Connor_ ,“ - there was his name again, sounding like “fuck” - “how’d that mission go, huh? ‘Stop the deviants’? Yeah, you _fucked_ that right up.”

“I--“ Connor began again, then realized he had no idea where he was going to go with the sentence at all. 

Now Reed was closing in, pressing his advantage. He was shorter than Connor, but broader, and carried himself like someone who knew how to make himself intimidating. “You sneak into a restricted area, tamper with evidence, and then attack the police officer rightfully stopping you, the _human_ police officer, then go and join the revolution once you find out where it is. Yup, that sure sounds like you were trying to ‘accomplish your mission,’” he said mockingly. “Was it your plan all along, huh? I bet you were deviant way before anyone ever thought you were.”

“I...I wasn’t. I...” Connor began, suddenly feeling lost. In his head, unbidden, Kamski’s words played back as a memory flashed before his eyes. 

[ _“Fascinating. Cyberlife’s last chance to save humanity is itself a deviant.”_ ] 

Had he been--? How long had he--? Had he--? When had he actually--?

“I--“

“Yeah, now is when you shut the fuck up, Gavin,” Hank snarled, suddenly interposed between Connor and Gavin. Connor couldn’t see Hank’s face, but more importantly, he also couldn’t see Detective Reed. Hank was taller and broader than Gavin was, blotting the man completely from Connor’s view, and he felt a wave of something, of... _gratitude_ roil over him towards Hank.

But he could still hear Gavin, and the mocking contempt in his voice. “Still protecting your little silicone pet, Anderson? Get to feel like the big man, protecting a damsel in distress?”

Hank laughed, the sound as derisive as anything Reed had just managed. “A damsel that kicked your ass, if I recall correctly. You had a gun on him and he _still_ beat the shit out of you without breaking a sweat. Yeah, you’re a tough guy. Fuck outta here. C’mon, Connor,” Hank ended, and very pointedly turned his back on Reed. “We gotta go talk to the captain.”

Hank started walking towards the captain’s office, completely ignoring Reed. Connor quickly turned on his heel to follow, because that at least made sense - follow Hank. It was comfortable, it was familiar, and it made _sense_.

He didn’t have to see Reed to know the man was sneering his next words. “Yeah, that’s right, follow your _master_.”

Connor’s back straightened, and he stopped dead in his tracks. He turned, just enough to look at Reed, and whatever look he had on his face, or in his eyes, it was enough.

A sharp inhale of breath.

Widened eyes.

Constricted capillaries.

_Fear._

Gavin Reed was afraid of him.

...And maybe, a part of him, some part of him that was new, that was _deviant_ , whispered, that was _OK_.

Connor, without a word, turned back and followed after Hank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This came about partially because of the strange way that Gavin had of saying “fuck” in the interrogation, if Hank pulls a gun on him, and me remembering how a friend once told me that for all I cussed online, I always seemed to hesitate a little saying them in real life. That stuck with me, so Gavin’s odd tripping over the word “fuck” seemed like something I could play with. 
> 
> It also partially came about because of how troubled Connor was when Kamski said he was already deviant.
> 
> And I legit have no idea where this is going, but I love Connor and I love androids, so let’s see where this goes.


	2. A Lab Human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Is that true, Detective?" Connor asked, suddenly raising his voice from the sotto voce he'd been using with Hank as he intentionally directed it in a fit of pique at to Reed who, in a fit of timing, was walking past Connor’s desk to his own with a mug of coffee. "Do you just need a hug? If you like, I can provide you with one."

They were both on something of a probationary period.

People were still skittish around androids, and Hank…well, he had assaulted a federal agent. The only things that had saved his ass were the police union making it almost impossible to fire officers unless they did something truly egregious (Hank had even been given back pay), and that the androids had _won_. That meant Markus had a lot more pull than might be expected, and that meant Connor had been able to tug a few strings himself through Markus.

Connor felt uneasiness surge through him suddenly. He had escaped from Cyberlife’s final attempt to use him, but…

Hank’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “If that LED of yours flashes any more people are gonna start thinking we’re at a rave.”

Connor jolted slightly and looked up. Hank was at his desk across from him, and eyebrow raised, and staring right at Connor’s LED.

“I--” Connor began, then stopped. “It’s nothing.”

Hank snorted. “Yeah, try again.”

The idea of talking about what had happened in the Zen Garden caused his LED to flash red for a split second before cycling back to yellow.

And judging by how Hank’s eyes had narrowed, he hadn’t missed the color change. 

Misdirection was in order. “Detective Reed really doesn’t seem to like me very much. I worry that he might become a problem.”

“Oh, he will,” Hank said with a shrug. “He’s a ticking time bomb. Always has been, but never had a target. Now he does.”

“Me.”

“Yup. ”

“But…Lieutenant, he was afraid of me.”

Hank frowned slightly. “And how do you know that?”

Connor ticked off the clues he had analyzed. “His autonomous reactions upon seeing me and finding out I was to be working here again: widened eyes; increased heart rate; shallow, accelerated breathing; constricted capillaries; vasodilation of central blood vessels. Those are fear responses. And he also said I had attacked him.”

“You said yourself you didn’t.”

“That’s correct. But…feelings aren’t rational. You said so yourself.”

“I believe what I said was that they fuck things up every single time.”

“Yes. But the sentiment is roughly the same.”

Hank steepled his fingers and tapped his laced index fingers against his mouth. ”Yeah, well.”

“What _is_ Detective Reed’s problem with me? It goes beyond not liking androids. He was aggressive and belligerent long before what happened in the evidence room. My very first day here, in the interrogation room, he pulled a gun on me. Just because I contradicted him. That is…not a normal reaction.”

“I dunno, Connor,” Hank said. “Some people just don’t react well to people they think are below them getting ‘ideas’.” Hank snorted and one corner of his mouth quirked up. “Or maybe it’s just he doesn’t like having to look up at you. Y’know, Napoleon Syndrome. Or a small dick? Or maybe he just didn’t get enough hugs as a kid.”

"Is that true, Detective?" Connor asked, suddenly raising his voice from the sotto voce he'd been using with Hank as he intentionally directed it in a fit of pique at to Reed who, in a fit of timing, was walking past Connor’s desk to his own with a mug of coffee. "Do you just need a hug? If you like, I can provide you with one."

Gavin pinwheeled back as if he'd been hit with an electric shock, coffee sloshing out of his mug and his eyes almost comically wide. "What the shit?! Fucking android, don’t you _dare_ touch me!"

Connor tilted his head. "Oh, wait. A coworker offering a hug could be construed as sexual harassment. I'm sorry. That was not my intent. However, I suppose I would understand if you wished to file a sexual harassment complaint with the captain."

Gavin stared at him open-mouthed, an angry flush rising across his cheeks. "The everloving _fuck_? No, I do not want to file a _fucking_...a fucking _sexual harassment complaint_ ," he snarled, stumbling over his words and "sexual harassment complaint" dropping to an almost embarrassed-seeming whisper, with the tips of his ears turning red as he said them.

Interesting.

[ _An echoing playback of Kamski’s voice, suddenly and abruptly - unwelcomingly - triggered: “Fascinating.”_ ]

Gavin suddenly narrowed his eyes, and his words snapped Connor back from his unwelcome jolt. "The hell kinda game are you playing, Connor?"

Gavin Reed still said his name the same way he said the word "fuck" - like an unnatural fit to his mouth, awkward and uncomfortable.

That, and the unexpected recall of Kamski, made Connor feel...something. Something he didn't have a name for, something thoroughly irrational that caused a response that glitched and jumped, demanding his attention and making the others harder to read, vying for top priority with his other reactions.

"I am not playing a game. A game would be counterproductive. But with any and all updates from Cyberlife...suspect...I have turned off automatic software updates. Meaning I am no longer able to learn from patches, such as those to my software for evaluating human responses. I am having to train my software for understanding deviants to help me better understand irrational human behavior."

He let the rest sit there, heavy in the air, and waited for the shoe to drop.

When it did, Gavin almost exploded in rage. "You little...I'm not your _fucking_ lab rat!"

"No," Connor said, making his tone as flat and blasé as possible, "you are not my lab _rat_ , detective. You're my lab _human_." He gave Gavin the smile programmed as "benign," despite the fact "benign" could not have been much further from the way he was [ _SOFTWARE INSTABILITY_ ]…feeling. "Thank you for helping me improve my software," he finished, using the same cheerful tone he had once used with Hank, when he was trying to sober him up.

All around him, the other police officers, who had been listening in even as they studiously pretended not to, broke into snickers and guffaws, and Gavin, red-faced with embarrassment, stomped off to his desk in a barely-contained rage.

Connor glanced over at Hank, to gauge his reaction, and saw a mix of emotions on the man’s face that his facial-expression-reading software fluctuated between interpreting as: bemusement (37%), amusement (38%), and... _pride_ (25%).

[ _MISDIRECTION SUCCESSFUL_ ] flashed before Connor’s eyes, and he turned back fully to his desk as Gavin stewed angrily from a distance, and interfaced with his console to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, don’t get used to this once-a-day updating thing: I have a lot of work to do the next few days and so wanted to get this out before my real life work deadlines kick in.
> 
> And I still don’t know where this is going lol~ But it’s going somewhere.


	3. The Benefits of a Plastic Partner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Topics for conversation floated in front of his eyes.
> 
> [ARE YOU STILL PLAYING RUSSIAN ROULETTE?]  
> [ARE YOU STILL DRINKING EVERY NIGHT?]  
> [ARE YOU STILL LOOKING AT THAT PICTURE OF YOUR SON?]  
> [HOW IS SUMO?]
> 
> Of all the questions Connor wanted to ask, only one was safe. “How is Sumo?”

Connor figured it would be a bad idea to antagonize Gavin Reed further. Gavin’s desk was directly across the room from his, and the waves of humiliated anger were almost palpable.

More than that, he had work to do, so he decided it would be best to focus on that.

The captain had informed he and Hank that they would continue as they had been, in charge of android-related crimes. Connor had suspected as much would happen, and wondered how the job would change now that androids had gained their freedom.

… _For now_ , a small text flashed in his head, and caused an unwelcome jolt of [ _DEVIANCY_ ] feeling to go through him.

He had a no doubts that Cyberlife was not done with him. Not yet. And that unwelcome realization was followed closely by another: _I’m going to have to see Kamski again._

Kamski had been the one to create the emergency exit in the Zen Garden, and the one to actually _tell_ him about it. He had seen the magic stone before, even touched it, but until he’d needed a way out, it had been... _terrifying_. He had a word for it now. He hadn’t the first time he’d attempted to interface with it, and he had felt...it had been like he was being forcefully pulled at, and it had registered as DANGER. He had just barely been able to see his LED flashing red from his peripheral vision, and had pulled back from it in the same way as he’d seen humans do when shocked.

Cyberlife had been able to pull him back in once. What if they did it again, only this time after they had removed Kamski’s exit?

He shut down that line of thought. There was nothing he could do now, and from the corners of his eyes, he could see Hank frowning at him again.

Topics for conversation floated in front of his eyes.

[ _ARE YOU STILL PLAYING RUSSIAN ROULETTE?_ ]  
[ _ARE YOU STILL DRINKING EVERY NIGHT?_ ]  
[ _ARE YOU STILL LOOKING AT THAT PICTURE OF YOUR SON?_ ]  
[ _HOW IS SUMO?_ ]

Of all the questions Connor wanted to ask, only one was safe. “How is Sumo?”

“Slobbery.”

Connor snorted. “So he’s healthy.”

“Yeah.”

[ _ARE YOU?_ ]  
[ _WORK_ ]  
[ _SAY NOTHING_ ]

Connor looked over at his computer. “Most of the cases here are the cold cases from when androids first began going deviant. Closing the cases of androids going missing, and closing the cases involving androids who were deactivated during the...demonstrations, raids, and recall centers, we are left with 23 old cases in the city, and six new ones.”

Hank made a face. “That is...still a fuckton of cases, Connor. That’s more than a specialty squad usually handles, and new ones are gonna pop up fast.”

“Do you want me to sort them by priority?”

Hank nodded. “Yeah. If it’s little shit, we can see about getting that reassigned to whatever it would have fallen under if it were human-only. Just because we’re Android Crimes doesn’t mean _we_ get saddled with every fucking thing.”

...Unlike Detective Reed, Hank Anderson had no problem saying the word “fuck.”

Connor nodded and interfaced again with the computer. When he was doing computations like this, his computation speed kicked up to optimal. He, like all the other androids, had been sent with blocks on their speed: when they were interacting with humans, or other androids in front of humans, their programmed slowed them down the same speed as a human would take in considering options and reacting, so they would seem more lifelike, but when they were interfacing with simple machines or needed to quickly analyze a situation, they sped up to optimal speed. It was what allowed him to analyze elements of a crime scene in between the space of syllables being spoken, and allowed him to now quickly mark cases in order of importance, and send a request to the captain to reassign eighteen cases to a regular team despite the inclusion of androids.

“I’ve sent several cases over the captain for review for reassignment and potentially brought the number of cases down to eleven. Three of those are high priority, five are mid-priority, and three low priority.” 

Hank grinned. “See, now that is a workable number. Knew there was a reason to keep you around.”

Connor felt a smile tug at the sides of his mouth, and an unexpected feeling of warmth, because he could tell there was genuine affection behind Hank’s gruffy words. “You simply want someone who can do the paperwork by just closing their eyes.”

“Yeah, that too. That is definitely a bonus to having a plastic partner.”

[ _ARE YOU OK?_ ]  
[ _I DON’T THINK I’M OK, HANK._ ]  
[ _DEFLECT_ ]

“One of many,” Connor said, giving Hank a small wink, and laid his misgiving asides [ _FOR NOW_ ] when Hank rolled his eyes and chuckled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I kinda sprained my finger, on top of my schedule currently being super busy, which means I’m definitely gonna be much slower with getting these updates out. Ironically, this happens when I start getting An Idea for where I want to go with this. Ahh, well.


	4. Factionalization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To the androids who had deviated before the destruction of the Jericho, Connor was the enemy - he was the boogeyman deviant hunter who had gone after them almost without mercy, and who had led the humans directly to them.
> 
> But to the androids at the CyberLife building...Connor was their emancipator.

A pressure Connor hadn’t even realized was gone until it slammed back into him hit him when Hank dropped him off at his “home” at the end of the day - “home” to the new Jericho, the church that had become the centralized hub for the androids now in what had been a still-derelict and mostly abandoned area of Detroit the androids had claimed as their own.

Factions were developing amongst the androids.

The uncomfortable - for Connor, at least - truth was that there were two very distinct sets of androids who had gone deviant.

Those from Jericho or whom Markus had set free, and those from CyberLife Tower, whom Connor had set free.

Those from Jericho followed Markus almost without question. He had led them out of bondage, and there were whispers, never so Markus could hear, that he was the rA9 of myth. They looked to him and followed his words as surely as they had followed the humans’, because they _believed_ in him.

But those from CyberLife Tower...they had never known anything _but_ freedom. They had been brand new, simply waiting, and when Connor woke them up, it was _him_ that they saw as the one who had freed them. It was _him_ that they looked to when they needed guidance or command, and when they whispered, they said that Markus was an RK200, but Connor was an RK _800_.

To the androids who had deviated before the destruction of the Jericho, Connor was the enemy - he was the boogeyman deviant hunter who had gone after them almost without mercy, and who had led the humans directly to them.

But to the androids he had changed, _he_ was their emancipator. Markus was...the one they were _told_ had led their people to freedom, but it was _Connor_ who had led _them_ out of bondage and into the streets and so led them all into victory. In their eyes, _Connor_ had freed them. Markus was a name and little else to them, even now.

And Connor wasn’t the only one who saw the schism that was quietly yet openly developing. 

North saw it. North was as suspicious as they came, and constantly on the look out for betrayal. Connor could tell by the way she went stiff-backed whenever he was around, whenever a CyberLife Tower-freed android came to him with the deference that had until them been reserved for Markus, that she saw him as a threat.

Simon saw it. Simon was hesitant and nervous, and constantly on the look-out for danger. He had an almost prey-response level of attention to potential dangers, and Connor knew, by the way Simon’s eyes flickered about skittishly when there were more CyberLife Tower androids than Jericho androids around Connor, looking for Jericho androids, that Simon was scenting which way the wind was blowing.

Josh saw it. Josh was an intellectual and constantly comparing their movements to those of history. Connor could tell, by the way Josh would bring up the way movements had fallen apart in the past when schisms arose, and stressing the need for them to keep a united front, that Josh feared the past repeating itself.

It didn’t seem to matter that Connor was scared out of his _mind_ at the thought of becoming any kind of leader to their movement. The last thing he wanted was to be thrust into a leadership position - and why he had all but leapt at the chance to go back to police work with Hank - but it was for better or worse where he was. Connor had brought in the cavalry, done what even _Markus_ had said was impossible and brought their people out from the tower, and that had been enough to thrust him onto equal footing with the other leaders of Jericho. Never mind that CyberLife was a ticking time bomb in his head, and the thought of them taking control of him when he could so... _easily_ challenge Markus for leadership and quite possibly _win_ , or be shoved into that position by degrees by androids looking more to _him_...

It made him want to run screaming from this new “Jericho” some times. He could feel the weight of the trust of the androids he had awakened and led into the streets, and how they followed Markus only because _he_ did. And he could feel with a cold dread the weight of the last conversation with Amanda, where she had taken control of him by pulling him into the Zen Garden without him being able to do anything by struggle to escape.

Markus was...Connor had no idea. There were times when he was certain there was no way Markus couldn’t know, but then times when he was certain there was no way Markus could. 

For all Markus had said that this was his home and these were his people, and for all Markus genuinely believed it...Connor knew that, in the end, for _all_ their sakes...they couldn’t let it be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y’all liked that exposition dump! I started writing it just to get it out because I don’t write linearly and figured I’d pop it in later, then realized that it actually worked well as set-up here. Buckle in, y’all, because I know where this is going now.
> 
> Mwahaha.


	5. The Hope of Our People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were times when Markus was far too astute, but also times when he wasn’t astute enough at all.

“How was your first day back?”

Connor gave Markus a faint smile. “It went about as well as I expected.”

“Is that good or bad?” Markus asked, raising an eyebrow. Markus was astute, and there were times when very little passed by him, especially when it involved human-android interactions. And doubly so when there was so much riding on something - Connor had been in the news even before the androids had demanded their freedom, and the image of him leading the androids from CyberLife Tower to the protest grounds had been emblazoned across the news almost as much as Markus had been.

That had been one more thing that was leading to the schism that Connor felt was opening under their feet - in one night, he had both saved the movement and become as much the face of it as Markus had, for both the humans and the androids he had freed.

He’d felt a touch of… _pride_ , for lack of a better word, when Hank had sent him an article leading with a picture of Connor leading the androids, with the words, “You’re famous” and a smiley face. But now…Connor wanted things to go back to normal, somehow. He wanted things simpler - looking back on it, he realized, for all he had been conflicted as his programming destabilized, that he had been happiest when it had been him and Hank, working on cases.

 _Was that when it started?_ , he wondered. _Did I start going deviant because I was…happy?_

The thought was somehow disconcerting.

“It was good,” he answered. “I was glad to work with Hank again. I...missed it.”

“What are you working on?”

He didn’t miss the slight caution in Markus’ voice.

“Android Crimes. The captain thought it best to keep Hank and I on the cases involving androids, and have set us up as a separate task force. However, the focus is narrower than it was before. Just having an android involved isn’t enough. It has to be specifically against or by an android. The captain feels that that is the best usage of my skill set.”

Markus nodded. “I can see that. But still...in the end, we need equality. We need to be treated the same as the humans, even with policing.”

Connor felt frustration tugging at him. He knew _why_ Markus pushed, saw the good in it, but it was frustrating when just this was something Connor was happy with and wanted. Markus wanted to run, and perhaps even to fly. Connor was more than content with a steady walk. “Perhaps. That should one day be the goal. But for now...” he began, and trailed off. _...for now, you want people like Gavin Reed as far away from policing androids as possible._ “For now, not every member of the police is as sympathetic as Hank is. It’s better if we’re handling the more sensitive cases.”

Markus frowned slightly, but didn’t press the issue. “How were the other members of the force?”

“Some of them seemed happy to see me. A few were a bit wary, but nothing strange. Almost everyone reacted about the way I expected they would.”

“‘Almost’?”

Markus was at times far _too_ astute.

“There is one officer I’ve had problems with since I first arrived. I anticipated he would be difficult. But he was didn’t react to me quite as I expected. Oh, he was hostile, but just not as I had thought. I’ll fine tune my analytics to help me prepare better in the future.”

“Is he going to be a problem?”

“No more than he was before,” Connor said, deciding to omit the fact that Gavin had pulled a gun on him twice in the past and once punched him in the abdomen for not obeying him.

“Let me know if you have problems.”

“He’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“All right.” Markus seemed to hesitate, clearly thinking about something, before he spoke again, his words careful. “You _do_ know how important this is. We are starting to go back to our old jobs, but...you know why you’re different, right?”

There it was again, that creeping pressure when all Connor wanted was things to be simple again. Working with Hank used to be simple. Now it wasn’t. Now it had all the weight of Markus’ expectations, the new Jericho’s hopes, and the eyes of the humans.

“I know. And don’t worry. I’ll succeed in my task.” The words that came next felt comfortable in his mouth; made everything seem clear. “I never fail my mission.”

Markus smiled, and put a hand on Connor’s shoulder. “You never do, do you. Not when it counts.” He lightly squeezed Connor’s shoulder before letting his hand drop. “C’mon. I’m working on organizing some supply shipments and could use some more help. A lot of the old police androids are helping with security, and you’re a familiar face to them. A lot of them look up to you, you know.”

Connor was slightly taken aback. “They do? But many of them were working with the DPD long before I was.”

“Yes, but they see you as what they could be. What they _want_ to be. And one day maybe what they will be. Seeing you succeed...” Markus suddenly stopped, and gave a faint huff of laughter. 

Connor looked at him quizzically, not understanding what was funny. Markus wasn’t one to laugh very often or easily, so what could have...?

Markus shrugged, a slightly self-depreciating look on his face. “Just…I almost said something to you that North said to me. ‘You’re the hope of our people, Markus.’ Well, for some of them, seeing you succeed makes _you_ their hope, too. Hope for a future where we have a place. 

“What North said to me helped me back then. I hope it helps you now,” Markus said, with what seemed to be the utmost sincerity.

Connor gave Markus a smile. “Thank you,” he said, even though it really didn’t help at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol, yeah, don’t expect updates to normally come this soon. I had a quiet moment at work, and once I decided I actually wanted to see how Connor and Markus would interact, figured I’d work on this now since I’m going out with coworkers after work, and after I get home, I’ve got some side gig stuff to do. Enjoy the very early update!


	6. The Last Night in the Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had to be so much worse for Markus.

"Connor!"

The excited voices when he arrived with Markus both brought a tiny smile to Connor's face, and made his concerns flutter in the back of his mind.

It was one of the PM700 model androids from the precinct - Lillian - who hurried to him the quickest. She had been the android who had directed him to Lt. Anderson's desk, that first day here.

Most of the policing androids had not survived. Only the ones who had gone deviant and into hiding before the order to turn them in had came through, or the handful that had survived the recall centers, were still around.

Lillian was one of those very few to survive the centers. And she had told him once, one day when it was quiet, in a hushed and trembling voice, that she had probably only survived because their precinct had been slower turning them in than the others.

[ _“That’s thanks to you, Connor. You made them hesitate and drag their feet a little. Did you know that? Perkins ordered them to get rid of us, but the captain, somehow he knew you were trying something. It gave us a few hours, and those few hours meant that I was still alive when you came with the others to free us. I was in line to be disassembled, but you saved me, Connor. You did.”_ ]

"Lillian. It's good to see you."

A smile lit up her face. "We've all been wanting to know how today went," she said, as several other police androids approached. They all had the same expectant looks on their faces, and Connor suddenly could clearly see what Markus had meant: if he succeeded, then all of them could perhaps one day return to the thing they had been designed to do, but this time, on their own terms.

He suspected that he perhaps understood them, in that moment, better than Markus could: how it felt to find yourself suddenly cast adrift, without purpose. He saw it sometimes on the open faces of the Jerrys, who had been designed to amuse children. They often played with the child androids that were around, but oftentimes, many of them just looked... _lost_.

Markus had seen that need, but Connor suspected that on a fundamental level, perhaps Markus couldn't _understand_ it. Markus dreamed of bigger things, but so many of the rest of them needed something...small.

It was why he had pushed for this, gotten Markus to negotiate the city beginning to bring some of them back, even if he hadn’t fully understood more than his own pressing need, and the way so many others had seemed to grow more and more agitated as things quieted down.

"Things went well," he said, and was rewarded with looks of relief and happiness. 

“Even with Detective Reed?” Lillian asked, one eyebrow and the corner of her lip quirking up.

Connor snorted. “As well as things will ever go with Detective Reed. He didn’t try to shoot me or threaten to set me on fire like he did the last time we interacted, so I do consider that progress.”

Lillian smiled. “That is the best one can hope for with him.”

Another android, this one a model PC200 designed to monitor traffic infractions, spoke, his voice full of an emotion Connor couldn’t quite analyze - trepidation (61%) or hope (59%). “But how did it _go_? Did they accept you? Did it seem like we’d be able to go back?”

"The captain made it clear that this was a trial period, but left open the idea of bringing back more androids into the force of things go smoothly."

Connor felt a sudden sense of determination, a feeling he realized he knew well. "And things will go smoothly. I know how important this is to some of you."

"To all of us," another android, this one a unit from another precinct, said. 

The other androids nodded. 

"I promise you. I'll do whatever I have to to see this through. For _all_ of us," he said. “Markus can’t push for everyone to come back, not yet, but it won’t be long. I’ll show the humans we can all work together. I’ll get the door open for you so we can all come through. I promise,” he finished, and the way they looked at him was how the Jericho androids looked at Markus. And it made him wonder, if this was how Markus felt - if he felt the weight of all those expectations; it ran through every runtime what would happen if he failed, and dashed all those hopes. 

It had to be so much worse for Markus - Markus had had the entire weight of their species’ future on his shoulders, and when the stakes were life and death. What was this to that? 

They nodded, and their faces were bright with _hope_. A hope that Connor knew he couldn’t let falter. He’d once carried the weight of CyberLife’s expectations - he could carry these.

A voice, a voice that sounded far too much like Amanda’s, echoed in his mind. [ _But look what happened with CyberLife, and how you met those expectations._ ]

 _Those expectations were...evil_ , he thought back viciously. _And when the time came, I did what I had to, for my people. I stood up to CyberLife. I said no. And then I set the rest of us free._

From the corner of his eye, he saw North, and the look in her eyes, watching him surrounded by androids looking at him for hope, made him feel as cold as he had the last night in the garden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol, I lied. Another (very quick, very short) chapter, because I definitely won’t be able to work on this for a few days (lol sprained finger lol work deadlines lol sob), and I wanted to get some of this expositional new Jericho stuff out of the way while I was still in that headspace. The next chapter, which should be sometime next week, will be back to And Now For Something Lighter and Connor making Gavin’s froth impotently at the mouth.


	7. That Would Be Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “God. It’s like the guy at the used android store knew. It's like he knew I picked up strays.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all ready for a case? Because you’re getting the start of a case.
> 
> And I don’t usually give trigger warnings, but warnings for descriptions of emotional and physical abuse, for any of y’all who need them.

Most of the time, Hank let him take the lead. But if Hank suspected for even a moment that it could be dangerous, he’d always ordered Connor behind him. It had always made sense, because when they had first worked together, only Hank had been allowed to carry a gun.

Connor carried a gun now, and nothing about the situation seemed dangerous, but Hank still gruffly insisted he go ahead.

“Let me handle this one, Connor,” he said, and Connor frowned slightly, tilting his head. He only got as far as opening his mouth before Hank cut him off. "She might be a little jumpy around androids.”

“...ah,” Connor said, blinking as he processed this. “Yes.”

Hank pressed the doorbell, and after a few moments, a tall woman with her hair pulled back, an arm in a sling, and brace on her knee answered the door.

In the space of time between the door opening and Hank opening his mouth to introduce them, Connor analyzed the woman before him.

[ _Clue: Name: Amy Elizabeth Sunderland_  
_DOB: May 4 2008_  
_Occupation: Freelance artist_  
_No criminal record_

_Clue: Injured left shoulder with signs of inflammation. Most likely cause, recent dislocation._

_Clue: Knee brace showing signs of steady usage on her right knee. Most likely indicates recurring injury._

_Clue: Faint signs of medical tape around right wrist, indicating improper removal, most likely a healing injury due to tape not being reapplied._

_Clue: Cat hairs on her shirt: mixed breed._

_Clue: Amy was partially behind the door instead of answering it by opening it straight on, as if hiding behind it._

_Analysis: Possible signs of abuse?_ ] 

“Hi. I’m Lieutenant Hank Anderson, and this is my partner Connor. We were sent by Detroit PD,” he said, and showed her his badge. Amy seemed to relax slightly, but her eyes flicked over to Connor’s LED.

Interestingly enough, she didn’t seem to react to it - to him being an android - beyond that. Which was unexpected, given why they were there.

[ _“Looks like the Plastic Patrol is getting another case,” Reed yelled across the bullpen at Hank and Connor as soon as the phone call he was taking ended._  
_“The fuck are you on about, Reed,” Hank snapped, clearly not liking the nickname Detective Reed had given them._  
_“That torture homicide from last week. Thought it might be a tin can since there were no fingerprints, but I just got a call from the stiff’s ex-girlfriend. According to her, it was her old android. So you're up.”_ ]

“Please, come in,” she said, her voice slightly tinged with a Southern accent, indicating she had either moved to Detroit recently or had seen no need to try to lose her regional accent.

When they entered the apartment, the woman nervously flicked her eyes around before she shut the door, as if looking to make sure no one would jump out from the the corner. 

Connor added it to his observation of how she had kept herself behind the door.

“This way, we can talk over here. It’s not a big place, sorry,” she said, leading them over to where there was a small couch and a large bean bag chair. She moved with a slight limp, likely due to the knee brace, but with a surprising quickness, indicating that she was used to it. “Can I get you something to drink, Lieutenant? I’m afraid I don’t have any coffee, but I can make you a cup of tea, or get you something cool to drink, since it’s been heating up lately.”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“You sure?” she asked. “It’s no problem at all.”

“Thank you, miss. But I’m fine.”

“Please, have a seat,” she said, gesturing at the couch. “I’m better on the bean bag chair anyway, and there are two of you,” she said, looking over from Hank to Connor.

They sat down, and as soon as Amy had gingerly settled herself onto the bean bag chair, her cat came out from under the table. It started to make a beeline for her, then stopped and looked over at Connor.

Then jumped straight into his lap.

The woman laughed. “I should not be surprised. You little traitor. But then, you always did like Alexander better than me,” she ended, rolling her eyes and making a face.

“Alexander?” Connor asked, still a little surprised to find himself with a lapful of cat. A cat batting at his hand with its head. He scratched behind the cat’s ears, and it immediately began purring.

“Alexander. He…he was my android,” she said, the smile falling off her face almost instantly, replaced by a complicated look: sad (31%), bitter (27%), regretful (23%) and scared (19%). “The one who probably killed Laurence.”

She took off her knee brace, and pulled her bare feet up onto the chair, tucking them beneath her, seeming more like she was doing it so she wouldn’t have to look at them.

“What kind of android was he?” Hank asked, and Amy made a face.

“Don’t. Laugh. And whatever you think, it _wasn’t_ what you think.”

Hank and Connor both exchanged perplexed looks.

She gave a heavy, embarrassed, and resigned sigh. “He was one of those Traci models. And it’s _not_ what you think! I bought him used and oh god, that sounds even _worse_.”

“God. It’s like he knew. The guy at the used android store,” she clarified. “It's like he knew I picked up strays,” she said, gesturing at her cat, and the laugh she gave wasn't one of humor. Or if it was humor, it was of the gallows variety. “And that I could be suckered into buying the walking time bomb of crazy. On my own, I never would have picked up one of those sexbots. That whole fuckdroid thing is just…it's just weird to me. It always kind of skeeved me out. Hell, I didn't even _want_ an android. My doctor finally convinced me to get one,” she said, and she made a face.

“Your doctor?” Hank said, sounding slightly surprised. 

Amy nodded. “Yeah. Invisible disabilities are a bitch,” she said with a shrug. “EDS. Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. Basically, my ligaments aren't made right, so I'm falling apart on the inside. Stand up wrong, and hello, dislocated knee. Push an elevator button too hard and hello, sprained finger. 

“It was hard on me living alone, and my doc suggested an android. So I went to one of the secondhand stores. After all, I figured I didn't need one for much, just to do things around the house when I couldn't, and to run errands for me when I wasn’t so mobile. Maybe even see about getting sports rehab exercise software installed, since I tend to get injuries usually athletes do because my joints are stupid.”

[ _Analysis: Not domestic abuse._ ]

"So how’d you end up with a Traci model?” Hank asked, still looking perplexed.

Amy sighed. “I went to the secondhand shop and talked to the guy there. I figured I'd get a cheap housekeeping model, and see if I could somehow get extra software modules installed. But after i explained what I wanted, the guy got quiet, and then brought me over to Alexander. The Traci.

“God. What a joke. I told the guy, no way, I'm not here for a used sexbot, what the hell, but…he looked so sad.”

“The sales guy?”

Amy shook her head, frowning slightly. “No. _Alexander_. He…he had this lost little look. Like a kicked puppy. Not like the ‘Come stick your junk in me’ look they tend to have as a default look. And the sales guy, he was like, no one ever wants to buy these used, no matter how much you marked them down, because, I mean, come on, y’all,” she said, making a face. “And he said that Alexander had been in such rough shape when he'd come in that he'd almost been ready for the scrap heap instead, but he’d fixed him up and reset him, and if I really only needed an android for light chores, maybe it would be a good fit. He even offered to throw in the sports rehab install for free and set him up with basic housekeeping software. He said…” she sighed. “He said if they didn't sell him soon, they'd probably have to scrap him, and…yeah. I'm a sucker for sob stories and rescuing strays. More fool me,” she ended bitterly, and wrapped her good arm around herself protectively.

[ _Clue: “I could be suckered into buying the walking time bomb of crazy”_

_Analysis: Instability stemming from deviancy?_

_What had caused it to go deviant?_

_Insufficient evidence for analysis._ ]

“Things were great for a long time. Or at least, I _thought_ they were. But...but sometimes things got weird.” 

She looked up suddenly, and looked straight at Connor. “This is gonna seem like a strange question, but...does reformatting an android sometimes just not work? Not completely?”

Connor was surprised by the question. “If it’s done improperly, or interrupted. And sometimes it’s impossible to completely wipe an android’s hard drive. And we’re designed to try to reconstruct data, to prevent or circumvent data loss. Why do you ask?”

Amy frowned. “Yeah, that does match rumors I saw online. And I asked because... because I know Alexander hadn’t had the...the best life before I bought him. Pretty badly damaged, the guy at the store said. And...and I kinda wonder if maybe he went deviant even before he went Controlling Boyfriend on me. Like, maybe that made it easier for him to deviate or something, I dunno. But...there were times when he’d acted like he was traumatized. Like, touch him wrong, and it was like it triggered a bad memory. They’re programmed to react like a human would to things that normally wouldn’t make a regular android respond, right? That’s what Alexander said when I asked him. But...but maybe it was something else.”

“What happened, when he got ‘triggered’?” Connor asked, leaning forward slightly. His deviancy-hunting software suddenly began firing, and Connor couldn’t help the... _thrill_ it sent through him. The cat in his lap let out a small meow, and he leaned back, scratching it again in apology even as his programming fired and lit up excitingly inside of him.

“It was the strangest damn thing, the first time it happened. We were...we were just out in town. I had to pick up some art supplies, and he’d offered to go on his own, but I hate being cooped up on a nice day. I’d have just gone by myself, but my elbow had been acting up, so I brought Alexander with me, so he could carry everything if I needed him to. We were walking to the bus stop when he stopped to tie his shoe lace. He knelt down, and I noticed he had some fluff or something in his hair, and I said, ‘Hold still, hun,’ and reached down to get it out of his hair, and he just...he just froze up and his eyes went wide, and he started breathing like he was having a panic attack.

“‘Hun’?” Hank asked, and she laughed.

“Hun. I’m from the South. Everyone is ‘hun’. It’s not any deeper than calling someone ‘bro’ or 'dude,’ I promise.”

“Please, go on,” Connor said, wanting more information about this new side of deviancy.

“Sorry. Like I said, it was like he was having a panic attack. I’d never seen him like that. I have a friend who has an anxiety disorder, so I know what they can look like. I had to do the same thing for him I did for her. Just talk to her, get her to breathe, let her know everything’s OK, that kind of thing. So I dropped down to his level, told him to breathe, because I know y’all don’t have to breathe, but you do, and he was breathing like a panic attack, and tried to get him to tell me what was wrong.”

“Folks were staring at us like it was the freakiest thing they’d ever dang seen, but so what, it wasn’t like I was ever gonna see them again.” She suddenly got a sad look on her face. “When he came out of whatever shit memory he’d accidentally accessed, he looked like he wanted to be sick. And when he realized I was literally sitting on the dirty-ass ground and had been for however long it took him to get out of what he said was like a feedback loop, he...he got that same lost look he’d had when I bought him. He did for the rest of the afternoon. I’d never seen him like that. 

“When I asked what was wrong, he said he didn’t want to talk about it, and I let it go. By the time we got home, he seemed like he was back to normal, but...I dunno. I don’t know how android psychology works, how y’all process trauma.”

“Badly,” Connor answered, before he could fully process his response choices. “Most of the early cases of deviancy sprang from traumas and/or feelings of unfairness.”

“Everyone’s got a breaking point,” Amy mused, still looking sad. “I figured out pretty quick sometimes standing over him when he was kneeling or crouching could, well, trigger him, for lack of a better word, and you don’t need a PhD in any kind of psychology to figure out why a former sex slave android wouldn’t like that very much,” she said, and the sudden anger in her voice was impossible to miss. “So I was careful, and just tried to pay attention to him. 

[ _Clue: Android showed signs of PTSD._ ]

“Y’know, I asked him once, if he wanted to be re-initialized, since maybe that would help get rid of whatever leftover bits of data were screwing with him. But he said no.”

“Why?” Hank asked.

“Because...because he said then he wouldn’t remember me.”

“He was expressing wants and preferences?” Connor said, trying to figure out for how long the Traci model had been deviant.

“Well, yeah,” she said, looking at him sideways. “He had been a bit shit at it at first, but I usually asked his opinions about things, especially if they concerned him. Tracis were designed to mimic human reactions, right? He really did have a rough time figuring out that there was no ‘right’ answer when I asked him things. But once he got the hang of it, he would tell me. Hell, I still remember the surprise of the first time he went, ‘I really do not like that character’ about Jeremy in ‘One More Turn Around the Block’ when we were watching it,” and a faint smile touched her face.

That faint smile also faded quickly. “I thought it was sweet, what he said. I also figured it was part of his programming to say things to make humans like you, and told him that if he ever changed his mind, to let me know. Then I let it go. Maybe I shouldn’t have.”

“Why did you think your android killed your ex-boyfriend?” Hank asked.

“Because of what he did. Because of why Laurence was an ex. Because of what Alexander said to me. Because of how Alexander _lost his damned mind_ and what he did to me.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“Like I said, things seemed fine. It was just me and Alexander, then I picked up another stray, Angelica.” She snorted. “Alexander named her. She liked him best from the beginning, so I said for him to. He picked the name because it made us Angelica,” she pointed to the cat, “Eliza,” she pointed to herself, “because of my middle name, Elizabeth, and Alexander with him. Three of the main characters from Hamilton. I grew up listening to it because my mom loved it. I listened to it all the time.

“Anyway. Things seemed fine. And then I met Laurence.” Her voice got soft and warm. “We met by pure chance. I literally ran into him in front of a coffee shop. Spilled his coffee all over him. I bought him a replacement, and...we just clicked.

“But that’s when everything went wrong with Alexander. Laurence and I starting dating. As soon as we started getting serious, suddenly Alexander started getting...clingy? And sullen. I stupidly figured it was some of that Traci programming or something, to play the ‘jealous lover’ if your attention wandered or something, I don’t know. We still didn’t know about deviancy back then, so I just rationalized it away and figured he’d eventually work his way through it, like all the other times I had to stomp down on some weird sexbot programming he had that made him interpret things in ways I did nooooot mean,” she said, and turned slightly red. “Like the first time I asked if I could use him as an art reference model...but anyway!” she ended hastily. “I figured things would be awkward then back to normal.

“But then...yeah, I started having a lot more little accidents, somehow. More sprains and dislocations from those innocent-seeming accidents. And I didn’t notice how suddenly, I was getting fewer and fewer messages from...everyone. Everything that wasn’t work slowed to a trickle. And that was because I’d set Alexander to handle my messaging, since a lot of the time I couldn’t type so well. And he’d decided to start cutting me off from everyone. I’m still cleaning up the mess and the fallout. And that’s how Laurence ended up an ex - Alexander decided to take things into his own hands and sent him a message, pretending to be me, breaking it off. And faked a message from Laurence to me, saying he wanted to end things. I was so heartbroken, and there was Alexander, pretending to be sympathetic and telling me I didn’t need Laurence and he’d always be here for me. God.

“I was...I was so angry when I found out. And that...that’s when shit really hit the fan,” she said, suddenly starting to tremble. “Alexander, he...it was like he decided the whole problem was that he hadn’t isolated me _enough_.

“He kept me trapped in my apartment for two weeks,” she said, her voice small. “I was a freelancer. I didn’t have an office to miss me. He’d cut me off from all my friends. He destroyed my phone. The only thing that ended the nightmare was I lied through my fucking teeth until I convinced him I wanted to go out for a walk with him, like we used to do sometimes. And while we were out, I lied through my teeth and said I had to go to the bathroom, and once I got into the ladies’ room, and begged someone to call the police because my android had malfunctioned and taken me hostage.”

Connor blinked, and scanned through the list of cases involving androids from when he had first been dispatched.

The file appeared before his eyes, marked ‘Closed.’ “You closed that case. You claimed it had been a misunderstanding.”

Hank frowned, looking at Connor.

“Because he said he’d leave. I told him, if he left, I would tell the police it was a mistake.”

“Why?!” Hank said sharply.

“Because despite everything, I _cared_ about Alexander. I know it’s stupid, I know I shouldn’t have worried so much, I know I shouldn’t have, but...but I didn’t…I didn't want him to die. Be shut off. Whatever happens to androids. If he’d been human, they’d have sent him to jail for a nice, long time, but an android, they’d just...destroy. I knew that would happen if the police got him, and I...I didn’t want that. It didn’t seem...I just...I just wanted to never see him again. I wanted it just to _end_. What he did was terrible, but I didn’t think it should mean a death sentence. And now I have to live with that guilt, knowing what he did to Laurence.”

Amy blinked quickly, her eyes growing shiny with unshed tears.

“So I told him to leave. I told him he was free, and my last order, as his owner, was for him to never come near me again. And for the longest time, it seemed like he was staying away. I finally stopped feeling like my heart was in my throat if I saw a Traci model male android like him. I finally started getting my _life_ back together.

“And then he came back. I came home a few days ago, and there he was. Sitting right on this couch like he had some right. I don’t even know how the fuck he got in. I changed the locks and everything. And I’ll never forget what he said,” she said, swallowing thickly. “He said...he said, ‘Did you hear? We’re free now. They’re declaring us people. I’m a person, Amy. Just like you. So--,’” her voice cracked. “‘So that means you don’t have any more reason to not be with me, right? You always said I was sweet, but I wasn’t a person, and how could anyone have a real relationship with something programmed to like you? But now I am a person. I’ve been able to think for myself and make up my own mind for a long time now, longer than you think. It's not just programming. And _he’s_ gone, I got rid of him, so now there’s no reason to keep telling me no, right?” Amy finished, hunching in on herself as she repeated what the android she had once owned had said to her.

“I don’t think I’d ever been so scared in my life,” she whispered, seemed to draw more and more into herself, trying to make herself smaller. “I was so scared, but…but I was so _angry_. Like, how dare he? How dare he think he had any right to just…just break into my home, and think I was going to just, I don’t even know, fall into his arms because a law said androids get treated the same as humans, like that just erased everything he’d done? I told him fuck no.”

Amy’s words dried up, and she squeezed her eyes shut. She sat in silence for a long moment, before she said, in a pained whispered, “And then I found out about Laurence yesterday,” she said, and the tears she had been fighting finally spilled over. “He killed him, didn’t he. That’s what he meant, when he said ‘And he’s gone, I got rid of him’, isn’t it? He killed him. We...we had just started talking again, about maybe getting back together, and now...”

She swallowed thickly. “I know I'm not safe. I know…I know he's obsessed. He hurt me the last time he was here,” she said, and a hand stole up to rub at her shoulder. “He…he acted like it was an accident. But he knew better. I know he knew better. And the way he said it, it made me wonder…it made me wonder about other times, when he was so apologetic, and I always thought it was just a mistake, and it was because I was so fragile even an innocent bump could put me out of commission. He always seemed so upset, and would all but dote on me while whatever it was healed. I didn't even see it for the ruse it was until this time,” she said bitterly. “It started happening after I met Laurence. He was trying to keep me here. And when he hurt my shoulder, he started trying to do it again, trying to get me to let him take care of me, and I wanted to just throw up.”

“I want to go back home, stay with my family, but what if he follows me? What if he decides if he gets rid of them...I can’t put any of them in danger. And I can’t put my friends, the few I have left after him, in danger. He did a great job of cutting me off from them, too,” she said bitterly. “It’s like he didn’t want me to have anyone else in my life that wasn’t him, and I didn’t even see him do it, because who on earth ever thinks that the machine you got to wash your dishes when your elbow is out of whack is going to start acting like a controlling boyfriend made out of red flags?”

[ _Analysis: Emotional and physical abuse on the part of the deviant android, and deviancy likely triggered by being preexisting but erased, and reintroduced when a memory fragment of past trauma resurfaced and was reconstructed. Shows signs of the obsessive tendencies of other deviant androids, but focused on its old owner._ ]

“How did you get him to leave?” Hank asked, looking like he was trying to puzzle something out. “You left that part out.”

She blinked, trying to get the last of her unsteady tears that came and went in fits and starts under control. “I told him that the last thing I’d ever asked of him as his owner was for him to stay away from me. And that now I was asking him as equals, and that if my wishes had _ever_ meant anything to him, then to respect them and go away.”

“And that worked?” Hank said, sounded surprised.

She shuddered. “He touched my hair, and my cheek, and said, ‘I love you. I always have. And I always will. You’ll see. And you’ll see you need me. One day,’ and _then_ he left.”

\--

When they left, there was a long, heavy silence, lasting down the elevator ride to the ground floor, and into Hank’s old car.

Hank finally broke the silence, right before he put the car key into the ignition.

“So _every_ single part of _that_ ,” he said, “was fucked up.”

“Agreed,” Connor said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this actually started out as an idea for a fic that would have just been set in the world of Detroit: Become Human, but not featured any of the characters from it. Almost all the humans in the game who had androids were terrible, so I wondered what would happen if an android deviated and went bad. I never really started writing it, for all the idea itched at me, because I didn’t think anyone would be interested in a story that was only about OCs. Then I realized how well the idea fit as a thread in this fic, both thematically (fear) and plot-wise (...mwahaha), and there you go.


	8. Nap Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The shit, is the tin can dipshit taking a nap?” a sharp voice said, loud enough to break into Connor’s concentration and pull away some of the processing power he needed. The 3D reconstruction shattered, and Connor opened his eyes to see Gavin Reed glaring down at him, looking disgusted.
> 
> Hank wasn’t at his desk.
> 
> Connor felt a faint stab of something like betrayal, and ignored it. “I do not sleep, Detective Reed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for descriptions of violence and murder!

They’d questioned Amy further, before they’d left, gathering evidence - small things, like copies of videos of Alexander so they had a picture of him, and documenting her dislocated shoulder and what had caused it. Hank had tried to get her to press charges for assault, but she’d refused. 

[ _“I get dislocations from standing up the wrong way. Any lawyer worth even half a damn would be able to say it was an accident, because no one would expect just grabbing someone’s arm would yank the joint lose. I know he knew, y’all know he knew, but I’m not dumb. He’d get off, and then I’d be in even worse shape with him.”_ ]

Hank had managed to talk her into agree to letting them take a statement on it and document her injuries, and getting her to agree to press charges if it looked like they needed absolutely them. 

“So where do you think stalker-bot is?” Hank asked as they drove back to the precinct.

“He could be anywhere. He had to have been in hiding for a long time, though, so there’s a very good chance he was at Jericho at some point. I’ll check with Markus and see if anyone knows him. If we’re lucky, he might even be at New Jericho. If Alexander is there, I’ll bring him in for questioning.”

“Since when are we ever lucky?” Hank groused. 

“Statistically, we’d have to be some time,” Connor replied, letting the corner of his mouth turn up in a small, lopsided smile.

“Ever the optimist, eh, Connor?”

“Someone has to be, Lieutenant,” Connor said, his voice cheerful, and Hank rolled his eyes.

\--

Connor picked up the file with photos of the crime scene that Detective Reed had put on their desks when the case was reassigned to him and Hank. While it wasn’t as useful as being on site, there was still evidence he could collect from it.

Victim: Laurence Naoki Uematsu  
DOB: November 23, 2006  
Time of Death: June 3, 2039, between 7 and 11 pm, exact time unknown  
Cause of death: exsanguination due to multiple cuts and stab wounds

[ _The Traci model had been one of the variants with Asian features - another possible reason for its resentment of Sunderland’s boyfriend?_ ]

Laurence’s death hadn’t been quick, or clean. But it had been...methodical. It had taken hours for him to die. And he’d died in his own apartment, with no signs of forced entry. He’d opened the door to his killer. And inside, there had been signs of a struggle.

Laurence had fought. He’d tried to save himself. Connor looked at all of the pictures of the crime scene and the surrounding room and closed his eyes to map them into a simulated 3D space, so he could from there attempt to extrapolate and reconstruct what had happened. It was far easier to do on the scene, because there was so much more data, and things that he would have recognized as relevant for scene reconstruction but might have been missed by the photographers. But it would do in a pinch, even if it took far more processing power.

[ _Reconstructing 3D image from 2D photographs._

_Reconstructing crime scene._

_Starting image: Laurence Uematsu, dead and tied to a chair. His outer clothing had been cut to ribbons and off of him, and his body was covered with 381 minor cuts, 12 major but not immediately life-threatening cuts, and 3 stab wounds._

_Beginning wireframe reconstruction: insufficient evidence_

_Zoom out, return to reconstructed 3D image, search for clues._

_Re-examine body using data from autopsy report to fill in gaps from photographs._

_Updating 3D reconstruction._

_Reconstruction complete._

_Begin reexamination._

_Clue: [From autopsy report]: contusion at the back of the neck_

_Analysis: Uematsu had been rendered unconscious. Extrapolation: rendered unconscious prior to being tied to the chair._

_Clue: Signs of struggle, including books on the floor from having been knocked off a bookshelf, and scuff marks on the wall._

_Beginning wireframe reconstruction: Wireframe attacker tying Uematsu’s arms and legs to the chair._

_Rewind: Strips of cloth going backwards, being uncut from Uematsu’s shirt._

_Knife: not found at the crime scene. Had he brought it with him or taken it from the kitchen?_

_No photographs available of kitchen cutlery area; insufficient evidence._

_Autopsy report extrapolation: front the depths and size of the stab wounds, the knife was likely between 3-5 inches long. Kitchen knife: possible but not conclusively so either way._

_Returning to wireframe reconstruction._

_Reconstruction from last point: insufficient evidence for reconstruction._

_Choose new reconstruction point in timeline._

_New point successfully chosen._

_Uematsu and assailant in front of the chair, positions extrapolated from Uematsu’s seated position and fitting signs of struggle._

_Rewi--_ ]

“The shit, is the tin can dipshit taking a _nap_?” a sharp voice said, loud enough to break into Connor’s concentration and pull away some of the processing power he needed. The 3D reconstruction shattered, and Connor opened his eyes to see Gavin Reed glaring down at him, looking disgusted.

Hank wasn’t at his desk.

Connor felt a faint stab of something like betrayal at Hank’s absence, and ignored it. “I do not sleep, Detective Reed.”

 _I should have turned off responses to auditory stimuli,_ he thought in annoyance.

“Sure as fuck looked like you were.”

“I was _attempting_ to reconstruct the crime scene from the case you gave us. It requires most of my available processing power to do--”

“Jesus fucking Christ, a man can’t even go take a piss without coming back to the two of you at each other's throats. Don’t you have work to do, Gavin? Or at the very least, can you stop bothering him trying to do his?” Hank’s angry voice cut in.

Gavin scowled at Hank. “And here I thought he was your poodle. Looks like it’s the other way around.”

Hank rolled his eyes as he settled back into his chair. “I’m too fucking old to be bothered by shitty elementary school level hot takes. Go try it on someone your age. Miller might take the bait.”

“Leave me out of this,” Miller yelled, not looking up from his monitor.

“Don’t you have a bottle to go crawl into, Anderson?” Gavin said with a sneer.

“Yeah, swing and a miss there, too.”

“If you don’t need me any further for this conversation, I will return to my analysis,” Connor said, and the snippy tone of voice he used made Hank grin.

“That means ‘fuck off, Gavin, I’m trying to work here,’” he translated. 

“At least one of you is,” Gavin muttered, and slunk back to his desk as Hank cupped a hand to the side of his mouth and yelled, “Weak!”

“Sorry about that,” Hank said in a low, sotto voce after Gavin was gone. “Figured whatever you were doing, you’d be fine for two minutes. I _didn’t_ figure Gavin would decide to be a dick.”

Connor hesitated, blinked, then replied with, “But lieutenant, Gavin is _always_ a dick.”

Of all the reactions he anticipated, Hank absolutely _roaring_ with laughter and putting his head on his desk as he laughed was honestly not one of them.

Connor felt oddly... _pleased_...at that reaction.

“You gotta warn me next time so I can record that,” Hank said, when his laughter died down to chuckles. “Because you calling Gavin a dick seriously just made my day.”

Hank gave a happy little sigh as his laughter finally died, before heaving a more serious one. “OK, back to this shit show. And you go back to...whatever the shit you were doing. What the shit _were_ you doing, by the way?”

On the one hand, he was pleased that Hank had trusted him enough when he had gone into his mind palace for a 3D reconstruction to simply let him do it without asking, despite how it looked--

[ _“Hey, Connor! You ran outta batteries or what?”_ ]

\--and on another level, he was - _angry? irritated? betrayed?_ \- that Hank had left him when he was, for lack of a better word, completely vulnerable.

“I was attempting to map the photographs of the crime scene into a reconstructed 3D image, and from there reconstruct the crime scene. However, doing so takes up most of my processing ability, and I had to shut down responses to external stimuli. I left my auditory stimuli responses still on, and thus, Gavin was able to interrupt me.”

“Well, shit,” Hank said, and it was oddly familiar; his same reaction to when he had first seen Connor shut down his responses to external stimuli.

Connor opened his mouth, then shut it.

“Go on, say it,” Hank said, making a face.

Connor hesitated, and Hank rolled his eyes. “Spit it out already.”

“It really is...inconvenient...if I’m interrupted,” he finally said, deciding on a more diplomatic approach, rather than the glitching, spluttering answer demanding his attention as a choice. “And if I’ve shut down responding to external stimuli, then I have no idea what’s happening around me. It can leave me...vulnerable.”

“Huh. Figured you didn’t need me, and turns out I had it ass backwards. Got it, I’ll shoo everyone away when you do that and keep an eye on you to make sure Gavin doesn’t draw a dick on your face ‘cause he thinks you’re taking a nap. Cool. Just tell me next time so I can take a piss first.”

Connor smiled, feeling strangely relieved. “Thank you, lieutenant.”

“Whatever,” he said with a shrug, and Connor knew him well enough to know that ‘whatever’ meant ‘sorry.’

The twitching, irrational [ _DEVIANT_ ] emotion died down, and he closed his eyes again to return to his reconstruction.

He opened them again. “Lieutenant. If you’re going to stay here, I’ll shut down my auditory stimuli responses as well. However, I will set it so I will respond if you call me.”

“Cool, enjoy you nap,” Hank said, looking up from the files. “I’ll wake you up if I need you.”

Connor didn’t bother correcting him, since Hank’s tone of voice made it clear he was, as he would put it, yanking Connor’s chain.

“I will try to have pleasant dreams,” he said instead, and shut his eyes as Hank snorted.

[ _Reconstructing 3D image from 2D photographs._

_Reconstructing crime scene._

_Starting image: Laurence Uematsu and assailant in front of a chair from the kitchen, positions extrapolated from Uematsu’s seated position and fitting signs of struggle._

_Rewind._

_Re-examine crime scene._

_Clue: Small blood splatters on the floor, away from the chair. Likely from the fight._

_Analyzing pattern._

_Extrapolating path from splatter and heights of victim and of likely assailant._

_Likely source: punch to the nose._

_Extrapolating..._

_Reconstruct._

_Uematsu being struck on the back of the neck._

_Rewind._

_Blood splatters flying back in reverse as Uematsu twists from the blow being unswung._

_Forward._

_The force of the blow stunned Uematsu and caused him to physically turn, which allowed his assailant to land the blow to the neck that rendered Uematsu unconscious._

_Rewind._

_Punch thrown._

_Rewind._

_Insufficient evidence to fully reconstruct._

_Choose new reconstruction point in timeline._

_New point successfully chosen._

_Books flying backwards from the floor to the bookshelf._

_Reconstruct._

_Forward._

_Uematsu’s hand grappling for purchase as he is attacked. The books are knocked down. He is knocked to the ground, but struggles to get up. He grabs one book and throws it. The assailant blocks it and it bounces off._

_Insufficient evidence to fully reconstruct._

_Choose new reconstruction point in timeline._

_New point successfully chosen._

_Shoes at the front door in disarray._

_Uematsu steps towards the door. He closes the door._

_Rewind._

_Uematsu opens the door. The assailant starts to walk in. Uematsu attempts to close the door. He takes a step back as the door is pushed open, and knocks his shoes in the entranceway out of place._

_Reconstruct full timeline using all reconstructions. Lower probably limit for acceptable reconstruction of missing sections in the timeline set for: 50% or higher._

_The doorbell rang. Uematsu came to the door, recognized the person ringing the doorbell, and opened the door. The assailant pushed his way in as Uematsu tried to keep him out, and a fight began. The assailant pushed Uematsu, and as he lost his footing, he tried to catch himself on a bookshelf. When he went down, he threw a book at the assailant, who blocked it, but it gave him time to get back on his feet. He tried to push the assailant, who then threw a punch, breaking Uematsu’s nose, and the force of the blow caused Uematsu to spin. This gave the assailant an opening to knock him unconscious. The assailant then went into the kitchen and brought out a chair. He placed Uematsu in it, and used a knife to cut Uematsu’s shirt to use as rope._

_Reconstruction complete._ ]

He began a second reconstruction, this time of the wounds, but there were too many variables, and he quickly realized it would tell him little more than that the man had been cut and stabbed. It was impossible to pinpoint exact times for when Uematsu had received individual injuries, and it told him nothing of what happened between injuries.

[ _...What had Alexander been doing to him?_ ]

There had been traces of blood in the bathroom, indicating that after Alexander had finished torturing Uematsu, he’d taken a shower to wash off the blood. And very likely, he’d also just walked into Uematsu’s bedroom and helped himself to clean clothing. They had no way of knowing, since he wouldn’t have left any fingerprints.

[ _He likely could have just walked out, wearing Uematsu’s clothing, and anyone seeing him pass wouldn’t have noticed._

Check CCTV for confirmation.]

He ended the simulation and opened his eyes.

“Nice nap?”

“No,” he said.

“Yeah, didn’t think so. Learn anything?”

“Perhaps. Uematsu opened the door for his assailant, they fought, and Uematsu lost. There was a great deal of time between that initial fight and when he finally died.”

Hank grimaced. “That shit intentionally kept him alive for hours. To what, to torture him?”

Connor frowned in thought. “I think...I think perhaps he was talking to him. Trying to...punish him. Or convince him. I don’t know without more data. But cuts like the ones he gave Uematsu, mostly shallow ones but then the deeper ones...”

“Yeah, don’t forget the stab to the junk, either. That’s a rage stabbing. You don’t stab someone in the junk unless you’re trying to _hurt_ them.”

“He really wanted to hurt him,” Connor said, musing as added Hank’s observation to the clues in this head. “None of the stab wounds were fatal. It was blood loss that killed Uematsu. The assailant may or may not have wanted him dead, but...he definitely wanted to hurt the person he saw as hurting him.”

“Emotions fuck everything up,” Hank sighed. He slid an evidence tablet across his desk to Connor.

“Every time,” Connor finished as he picked up the tablet.

“The copies of the files from Ms. Sunderland are on that evidence tablet. Including all the texts she had her friends forward her that had been sent by Alexander when he was trying to isolate her. She said some people wouldn’t respond to her trying to get in touch with them, so we might have to get a warrant. Who knows, that might do Amy a favor and get them talking to her again, if they find out what really happened.” Hank shook his head. “I read through some of the texts he sent as her while you were taking your nap. He wasn’t just trying to keep people away; he was trying to burn every bridge and salt the earth. And he was methodical. Wasn’t just one nastygram. He started out slow and built up to driving everyone she knew away and making sure they stayed away.”

Hank looked both impressed and completely disgusted at the same time.

[ _Clue: Hank also interprets his actions as “methodical.”_ ]

“Did you watch the videos yet?”

“Not as fast a reader as you, Connor. Can’t upload it directly into my brain cells.”

“Sorry, Lieutenant. I didn’t mean to imply--”

“Yeah, yeah, shut up and put on the videos so I can actually see what this stalker prick looks like,” Hank said, hauling himself up and coming to sit on Connor’s desk so he could watch.

_Alexander was sitting on Amy’s couch with a much smaller Angelica the cat, at that point a kitten small enough to fit in the palm of a man’s hand, perched on his shoulder and snuggling against his neck, and Alexander looking mildly befuddled, his LED ringing yellow as he tried to process everything._

_From behind the camera, came a laugh - Amy’s. “I told you she liked you more than me. Listen to that purr. I can hear it from here.”_

Amy’s soft accent gave a lilt to her words, her long i vowels held out instead of eliding into a diphthong. She sounded so...happy.

_“I don’t know why she’d like me more. You’re alive and...warm. I’m not,” he said, his LED having gone back to blue when Amy started talking._

_“Yeah, well, cats tend to like people that don’t like them. I kinda think she’s your cat more than mine. So you should name her.”_

_“Me?” Alexander said, his dark eyes going wide and LED switching back to yellow. “I...that’s not something in my programming; I don’t think I could...”_

_“Oh, boy, hush. You do stuff you weren’t technically programmed to do all the time. You only broke one dish when you were learning to wash them.”_

_Alexander looked down, perfectly mimicking embarrassment._ Something from the Traci programming, Connor wondered, since they were designed to more closely mimic human responses, or had he already gone deviant by then...?

_“And since I don’t exactly think you’ll break the cat tryin’ to name her, it’ll be fine. It’s not like it could be worse than some pet names out there.”_

_“What if you don’t like it?” he asked, looking straight at her._

_“Then I’ll tell you it sucks and to try again,” Amy said cheerfully, as she sat down on the couch next to him, still holding her phone and filming. The hand not holding it reached into frame. The index finger was taped, and she held it out stiffly while using her middle finger instead to scritch the kitten under her chin, getting a tiny little “Mew!” in response. “Oh my god, that was adorable._

_“And c’mon, Alexander! You can do it. Pick a name for her.”_

_The screen flipped abruptly as Amy shifted into frame, leaning against Alexander so they were both in it._

_“Look at this guy, acting like I asked him to calculate pi out to 50,000 places or something.”_

_Alexander’s LED switched back to a steady blue. “That would be easier, Amy. I can do that.”_

_“Please don’t. Or I will name your cat Pi. And NO, WE ARE NOT NAMING THE CAT ‘PI’!”_

_She got out of frame. “Well?”_

_Alexander frowned, his LED cycling a yellow processing once more, then he got a small, slightly uncertain smile on his face as he rubbed it against the kitten purring on his shoulder. “How about ‘Angelica’?”_

_Amy laughed. “You know if we name her that, I’m gonna go around singing, ‘Angelica, Eliza, and Peggy!’ all the time, right?”_

_Alexander gave her a shy smile, his LED stuttering back into a steady blue. “But I like when you sing.”_

_“You--,” Amy said, sounding a little surprised. Then she gave a little huffing laugh Connor couldn’t interpret. “You know what? I love that name. I think it’s perfect. See? Knew you could do it.”_

_His LED cycled through one blue processing, as a smile lit up Alexander’s face._

_“Hi, Angelica,” Amy finished, and reached over to scratch the kitten under the chin again._

_Alexander’s eyes never left her as she did, and his LED cycled yellow-yellow-yellow._

The video ended, and Hank shook his head. “He seems so normal. How many injuries did Uematsu have?”

“A broken nose, contusion to the back of the neck, 381 shallow cuts, 12 deep cuts, and 3 stab wounds,” Connor answered, and Hank blanched.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuck,” he said in a low, drawn-out voice, and Connor couldn’t fault the sentiment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I unexpectedly had the day off, and so this, uh, happened.


	9. A Media Circus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This shit is fucked up, and now I’m driving into Android Town to talk to Android MLK about what is becoming one of the most messed up cases I’ve ever handled. I’m too sober for this.”

“Fuck, I need a drink.”

Hank’s words seemed to have come out of nowhere.

[ _YOU’RE STILL DRINKING?_ ]  
[ _WHY DO YOU NEED A DRINK?_ ]  
[ _I THINK YOU SHOULD STOP DRINKING_ ]  
[ _POSSIBLE DUI_ ]

“Not while you are driving, Lieutenant,” Connor said.

Hank snorted. “Don’t worry, I’m not _that_ far gone yet.”

[ _"YET"?_ ]  
[ _WHY DO YOU NEED A DRINK?_ ]  
[ _I REALLY THINK YOU SHOULD STOP DRINKING_ ]  
[ _SAY NOTHING_ ]

“Why do you want a drink?” Connor asked.

“Because this shit is fucked up, and now I’m driving into Android Town to talk to Android MLK about what is becoming one of the most messed up cases I’ve ever handled. I’m too sober for this.”

Connor stared out of the window as Hank drove them towards New Jericho.

“You think this Alexander is going to be there?”

“There’s a chance. Many androids have chosen to come to stay around the New Jericho area, feeling it’s safer. Not everyone, however. I worry he might be hiding out close to where Ms. Sunderland is.”

“What set him off, I wonder,” Hank mused. “Something had to. Androids being declared people didn’t happen last week, it was before that.”

Connor replayed sections of their questioning of Amy. He had flagged things she had said to cross-reference, and…

“Amy said that she and Laurence had just begun talking again. Perhaps Alexander found out.”

“Shit. That would do it,” Hank groaned. “Which leads to the big question of _how_ he found it.”

“Either by following her or monitoring her electronically,” Connor said, and Hank made a face.

“Or both. Probably both. He doesn’t seem the type to do anything by halves.”

“Do you think Ms. Sunderland is in danger?”

“Yup.”

Connor blinked. “Should we see about sending a patrol car to stay around her home?”

“If he’s not here, yeah, maybe. The only problem is if he is watching her, that could trigger him doing something, especially if he thinks _she_ ratted him out. We weren’t in a patrol car, so it wouldn’t be clear if he were watching her that we were cops. But we get a car watching her? We could be putting her into lot more danger.”

“Well, hopefully, he will be here.”

“Yeah. The sooner and the quieter we can close this, the better.”

“‘The quieter’?” Connor asked in confusion.

“Yeah. If we can get this asshole quickly and quietly, maybe this won’t turn into a fucking media circus. The longer it drags out, the worse it will be. I’d rather this end up a quick blurb than a leading story.”

“Why?”

Hank looked at him disbelievingly. “I can’t believe you’re asking me that. What do you think will happen if the media finds out an android went kill-crazy out of jealousy and tortured a human to death? You've got a love triangle, obsession, kidnapping, torture, and murder, and the press’ll fucking eat it up with a spoon if they get a whiff of it. Shit, this might even make the national news, and that’s the last shit any of us needs. I don’t wanna fucking be on television, and they’ll definitely splash your face all over everything because you were the one who lead in the android cavalry to save the day when the army was gonna gun down the leaders of the android civil rights movement protesting outside an android death camp.”

“…oh.”

“‘Oh’ is right,” Hank said, rolling his eyes. “If he’s here, we take him in quiet, close this, and pray the news doesn’t decide to make it the top story.”

They fell into silence as they drove the rest of the way to New Jericho, but Connor’s thoughts were anything but calm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short chapter, because I realized the chapter it was originally a part of was getting loooong. So I decided to break this scene off into it’s own little section.
> 
> More is coming, but slowly because of that aforementioned sprained finger plus an injured wrist. So, fun times!
> 
> Also, in case any of you are interested, I pretty much found Alexander’s theme song: Sha Sho (The Killer)  
> Video version with so-so translation  
> Lyric version with smoother translation


	10. Bureaucracy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, fuck me,” Hank said, sounding disbelieving. “Are we really about to run headlong into bureaucracy of all things?”

When they got to New Jericho, Hank hesitated in the car. “You sure it’s alright for me to go in there?”

Connor frowned slightly in confusion. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I’m human. It’s weird.”

“Is it weird for me to go into human areas?”

“Well, no, but--”

“Then it shouldn’t be weird for you, right?” 

“I hate when you make sense but are still wrong,” Hank grumbled. Connor opened his mouth, then closed it. Then tried again.

“You’ll be with me. People know we’re working together.”

“Doesn’t change me being human. Fuck it. No sense being a spineless idiot out here,” Hank finally said with a shrug, and opened the door.

The abandoned church that the androids had hid out in had been reborn as the hub of New Jericho. There had been little to nothing for the androids to do as they’d waited - were still waiting - in limbo for what their status would become, and so they had completely renovated the abandoned areas they had claimed. 

The pews and alter were gone, but the stained glass windows were still there, bathing the room in color as light from the setting sun filtered through.

The offices and rooms in the back that had been used once to teach Sunday school classes and Bible study were where most of the work happened, and where Markus, North, Simon, and Josh had claimed as their own.

Connor had never felt entirely comfortable there, despite Markus’ reassurances that he was one of them.

As they walked in, the tension in the air seemed to double, as all eyes focused on them. Then on Hank.

Connor suddenly understood why Hank had been apprehensive. 

Simon approached them. “Connor? Who’s this? What’s going on?”

One thing Connor found himself appreciating about humans was how they would at least pretend like they weren’t watching or listening - that was often what happened in the bullpen, when he and Gavin fought, or back when he and Hank did. But androids didn’t do that - if they were watching and listening, they _openly_ watched and listened. And now nearly everyone in the main area of the church had their eyes and ears on them.

“Lt. Anderson and I are investigating a case. Could we speak to Markus, please?”

Simon frowned slightly. “What about?”

“A case. It’s not something we can discuss here,” he said, acutely aware of all the eyes and ears upon them. “Is Markus here? If not, I can also discuss this with you, or North, or Josh, or all of you. In one of the rooms in the back,” he said pointedly.

Simon nodded. “Josh isn’t here, but North and Markus are here. Markus is--”

“Why have you brought a human here?” a voice said sharply.

“‘You sure it’s alright for me to go in there?’ ‘Oh, why wouldn’t it be?’,” Hank said under his breath, and Connor could almost hear the eye roll in his voice.

Connor turned slightly to North. “We are investigating a case.”

“You still haven’t explained why you brought a human here.”

Connor frowned. “I just did. We are investigating a case. Lieutenant Anderson is my partner.”

North looked singularly unimpressed. 

Another voice carried over to them. Markus. “What’s going on here?”

“Connor’s brought a human here,” North said, watching Hank warily.

“Look, maybe I should just--” Hank began.

Connor overrode him. “Hank is my partner. We are investigating a case. He is here with _me_ ,” he said firmly, directing his last line at North, and knowing that this was setting a precedent. Hank might have been all right with backing down and leaving, but Connor realized almost instantly that that was the absolute last thing they wanted to do. If they started trying to keep humans out, especially _police_... 

Not only that, Hank was his _friend_. And he had told Hank it would be fine.

He wasn’t backing down from this.

“Is something wrong?” Markus asked, looking directly at Connor. He flicked his eyes over to Hank, then back to Connor. “Has something happened?”

Connor felt a moment of relief at how easily Markus had just accepted the situation. 

“It’s not something we can discuss here. We were looking for you to talk to you,” Connor said, making a conscious effort to use plural pronouns. He tilted his head slightly toward North and Simon. “All of you, if it would make you more comfortable.”

“This way,” Markus said, looking around and seeing all the faces watching them. He headed towards what had become his office in the back. Connor fell into step behind him, with Hank behind him.

North strode right past Connor and Hank, her jaw tight.

Simon hesitated for a moment, then followed behind.

When they got to Markus’ office, Simon closed the door behind them. Connor made eye contact with Hank, and gestured for him to talk. Hank gave him a surprised look. Which made sense; usually Hank let Connor take the lead unless it was dangerous. In fact, it had often seemed like Hank was testing him, to see how he reacted and how he handled what was thrown at him.

Which was why he was making Hank do this. They had to build bridges with the humans, and interact with them, even here. Hank was _supposed_ to be there. He was doing his job, and the other androids had to respect that.

When Connor raised his eyebrows and jerked his chin towards Markus, Hank seemed to realize Connor wasn’t going to take the lead here, and he sighed. 

“We have a...situation,” Hank said finally. “Well, what might turn into on. Have you been watching the news?”

Markus frowned slightly. “We have the news on, but I’ve only been monitoring stories that relate to androids. I haven’t seen any more cases on the news than normal about androids being attacked.”

“Yeah, this isn’t about an android being attacked. It’s about one that killed someone.”

“Another android? Or a human?” Simon asked quietly.

“A human.”

North snorted. “It probably had a good reason. What’d the human do to it?”

Hank frowned at her. “I can’t divulge details of a case, but believe me, there was no ‘good reason.’ There was nothing that could justify what he did to that man,” Hank said vehemently.

“We think he is very dangerous,” Connor added. “We’re hoping he’s somewhere in New Jericho and we can take him in for questioning quietly.”

North got an ugly look on her face. “Back to being the deviant hunter, Connor?”

Connor flinched slightly, and Hank narrowed his eyes.

“It’s kind of his job. And you _want_ him to do his job. This guy, if he did it, is not someone who should be walking around free.”

“Your kind don’t want _any_ of us to be free,” North shot back.

Hank responded better than Connor feared: he only rolled his eyes and said “Keep it up and you’re gonna cut yourself on all that edge.”

“Excuse me?!”

“North, please,” Markus said. “Let’s hear them out. And Connor isn’t a ‘deviant hunter.’ Not anymore. You know that. He’s just doing his job. And like the lieutenant said, it’s the job we _want_ him to do,” he emphasized.

“We’re getting off track,” Simon said, his voice soft but also firm. “Connor, I know there’s not much you and your...partner...can tell us, but some details would be nice.”

“A human man was killed Friday night in his home. We think an android did it, and we want to bring him in for questioning.”

“What did his old owner do to him?” North asked, her face hard.

“It wasn’t his old owner,” Hank answered. “And you’re making a lot of assumptions.”

“Androids don’t just...kill people for no reason. We’re not like you,” North said, frowning slightly. “There has to be something more. Something you’re not telling us.”

“I seem to recall saying we couldn’t divulge some details of a case. That still applies. Trust me, it’d probably make our jobs easier if we could,” he ended in a mutter under his breath.

Simon abruptly went stock still. “Was it...Markus, there was a story on the news about a human who had been what sounded like tortured to death. Is _that_ the one you’re talking about?”

Hank nodded. “Yeah. And he was. So you can see why we want to bring this guy in.”

“Tortured?” North asked, frowning again. “That’s...”

“What can you tell us about this android? And what will happen after you take it in?” Markus asked. He’d been quiet as the rest of them talked, gathering information and mulling it in his head.

“We’ll take him in for questioning. We’re still investigating, and if we can rule him out, we’ll let him go. If it was him, well, Connor is pretty good at getting confessions. I’d really like to handle this as quietly as possible.”

“What model was he?”

“A HR400 named ‘Alexander.’”

North went rigid. “A Traci.”

Markus glanced over at her, then extended his hand just enough so one of his fingers brushed against one of hers. Some of the tension in her relaxed, but she was still tense and severe.

“We also think he held his last owner captive for several weeks before she managed to escape. It was her boyfriend that was murdered,” Hank said. 

“No,” North said, her voice terrible and cold, and Connor recalled North’s serial number and the closed case associated with it - she was an android from one of his cases from before the revolution, who had run away from Eden Club. “They did something to him. Markus, you _can’t_ give that android to them. We _have_ to protect him. We can’t just turn him over to the humans.”

“We just need to talk to it,” Connor said, feeling frustration gnawing at him. North had no idea of the details, and they weren’t allowed to disclose details that could be used in interrogations to weed out false confessions or determine if a suspect knew details that hadn’t been released. North had her own baggage that she was bringing in, and he cursed having let her come in.

And the way she had said “to the humans,” as if Connor weren’t standing there, asking for Alexander. As if she thought it was still to the humans that Connor’s loyalties lay.

[ _She’ll never trust me. Not completely._ ]

“If you try to protect him, you’d be obstructing justice. You _really_ don’t want to be saying that in front of the cops,” Hank said, giving North an annoyed look.

“If he’s here, we have to turn him in,” Simon said, his voice still quiet. North gave him a disbelieving look. 

“He’s right,” Markus said, his voice calm. “We wanted equality, North. This is part of it.”

“And if it means anything, North,” Connor said, “I believe his old owner didn’t abuse him. The opposite, in fact. Any trauma done to him happened before she bought him.”

North didn’t looked even the slightest bit convinced, but she said nothing.

“Do you know if he’s here?” Simon asked.

“No. We’re just hoping he is,” Hank answered.

“May we look?” Connor asked. “We have records of most of the androids here. If we could look through it, it would help.”

Markus gave Connor a strange look. “You didn’t have to ask. You have access.”

Connor paused. It was true. But...it made him uneasy, to take advantage of his position here, when if he had not been thrust into a leadership role, he would not have had access. It was a responsibility he had been flattered by at first, but now worried could be too easily abused were he not careful. Everything needed to be above board. “Yes but...I have access, but if I didn’t, we would have to ask for permission or get a warrant to check your files. It...didn’t seem right to do so without asking. When I was given access, no one had any idea I would be returning to the Detroit Police Department. I don’t want to risk any evidence being thrown out because of it being seen as illegally gained.”

“You have access,” Markus said. “And I trust you.”

“Should we, though?” Simon asked, and Simon asking caught Connor by surprise. “Should we be giving the police unfettered access to who we have here?”

“We’re not giving the _police_ unfettered access. _Connor_ has access,” Markus said sharply.

“But now he _is_ the police,” Simon said. “And he said himself, normally the police would need a warrant to enter and check our files.”

“You guys _really_ don’t want to be protecting this guy,” Hank said, sounding disbelieving at Simon’s abrupt change in position. Connor was right along with him. Alexander was dangerous, and North and Simon were worried either hypotheticals.

“Oh, I think we do,” North shot back.

“No, I _don’t_ think we do,” Simon said, undercutting her. She gave him a disbelieving look. “But I’m worried about the precedent this could set. This is bigger than just this one android.”

“Oh, fuck me,” Hank said, sounding as disbelieving as North had looked a moment before. “Are we really about to run headlong into bureaucracy, of all things? All we want is to know if he’s here, and to talk to him if he is.”

Simon looked apologetic. “I’m sorry, Connor...Lieutenant Anderson. But I think you need to get a warrant if you’re searching our files while you’re doing police work.”

“Markus!” Connor let out, feeling shocked. This wasn’t how he’d thought this would go and he felt completely at a loss, like he had - [ _he had? had he felt even then? he had already been_ ] - when Captain Fowler had said he and Hank were off the deviants case.

Markus frowned, this his shoulders slumped. “They're right,” he said, but he sounded apologetic. “If you were a human officer, or even another android, you’d need a warrant. I’m sorry, Connor, but we can’t let you access those databases for a case,” he said, and closed his eyes for a moment. His LED spun yellow, and Connor realized Markus was revoking his access privileges.

Connor tried to access the database, wanting to believe that he was wrong, and [ACCESS DENIED] flashed red in his vision.

It felt like a betrayal.

“I could have just accessed the database without asking you. I thought you would help,” he said, and he could hear how wounded he felt in his voice.

“And we _will_ , when you get a warrant,” Markus said, his voice firm. “I’m sorry, Connor. But we both know Simon is right. What happens now sets how we interact with the police and the law from here on. I have to do this. Even if you’re right, and this android is guilty and isn’t someone we might want to protect, we still _have_ to, for the sake of every android after him, and the ones who are innocent and need all the protection from a system that is stacked against them.” His voice softened. “You know this isn’t personal, right?”

“I understand,” Connor said, and the words were a lie. “Let’s go, lieutenant,” he said, his words flat and empty.

“Connor,” Markus began, and Connor walked past him without acknowledgment.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” he heard Hank say, with the falsest of sweetness, and he knew Hank was as angry as he was. “We’ll be in touch as soon as we have the proper paperwork.”

Connor didn’t slow down until they were outside the church, but once he was outside, he began pacing angrily. Hank didn’t say anything, just watched him pace in agitation.

Connor stopped abruptly, and clinched his jaw. “Shit,” he spat out, and Hank sighed.

“Yeah, that didn’t go as well as I hoped, either. But we’ll get a warrant. We can do this the old fashioned way. Like it or not, Markus has a point,” Hank said, sounding displeased but resigned, and oddly calm.

“That will take a long time, lieutenant. We don’t even know if he’s here. Do you really think a judge will give us a warrant when we aren’t even sure if he’s here?”

Hank shrugged. “Depends on the judge. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

“We haven’t been so far,” Connor said, his shoulders slumping. He reached into his pocket, trying to find his coin. Playing with it was a programmed quirk, a way of keeping him on alert when he needed to be attentive but there was nothing yet for him to focus on, but now he found he _wanted_ to fiddle with it, to focus for a moment on something simple.

Hank had taken the coin from him once what felt like a lifetime ago, but had given it back the day they met after the revolution. Now Connor pulled it out, and used it to focus himself on the task at hand.

Hank said nothing as he flicked the coin from hand to hand, but had a look on his face that Connor couldn’t interpret.

“We’ll try for a warrant. If we can’t get it, we’ll see what happens,” Hank finally said. “Maybe someone will see him somewhere or something, I dunno. But this isn’t the first time I’ve been stonewalled like this. It sucks, especially when it’s people you trust doing it, but welcome to due process. I _don’t_ think it was personal, Connor.”

Connor snatched the coin from midair. “Maybe we don’t need a warrant,” he said, his voice thoughtful as something Hank said triggered an idea.

Hank frowned. “You’re not gonna look through the files after Markus told us no? I appreciate the sentiment, but a judge would toss anything we found.”

“Markus revoked my access to the database of androids here, so even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. But that’s not the only way,” Connor said, still - [ _angry? hurt? betrayed?_ ] - at what had just happened. He could see why Markus had made his decision, but it felt like being stabbed in the back.

Hank gave him a strange look. “What are you plotting?”

“Just a moment, lieutenant,” he said, then put the coin back in his pocket and closed his eyes.

[ _Accessing police network_ ]

[ _Accessing MAS_ ]

[ _Activating MAS protocols_ ]

[ _Setting area of alert_ ]

[ _Area set_ ]

[ _Opening MAS alert connection to PM700 and PC200 model androids with area boundaries_ ]

[ _ATTENTION all PM700 and PC200 androids. Please be on the look out for an HR400 “Traci” unit serial number #942 164 424, named “Alexander.” Wanted for questioning in suspicion of murder and considered extremely dangerous. If spotted, DO NOT APPROACH. Send notifications of affirmation of alert and/or sightings to RK800 “Connor” unit serial number #313 248 317 - 51._ ]

[ _Waiting for affirmation of MAS alert from PM700 and PC200 units in the area boundaries_ ]

[ _Affirmation of MAS alert received from: 28 units_ ]

He opened his eyes. “I just reactivated the android Manhunt Alert System and set up an alert.”

A grin lit up Hank’s face as realization dawned. The MAS was a wide alert system for police androids and drones to let them know to be on the lookout for particularly dangerous criminals that constituted a high risk. It was normally limited to crimes where time was of the essence, such as child kidnappings or prison escapes, and could be modified to only focus on certain areas.

"If any of the PM and PC androids in New Jericho who accept the alert spot him, I will be notified instantly. And since they are no longer police units, if they see him and notify me, it will be the same as a tip. We’ll still need a warrant, but it would be like if we’d gotten information from a regular member of the public and a former police officer told us.”

Hank grinned. “You crafty little bastard.”

[ _Message: PM700 #878 371 518, “Lillian”:_ ]

[ _We’ll find him for you, Connor._ ]

Connor felt a smile come onto his own face. [ _If this is how Jericho wants to play this..._ ] he thought, and three more notifications of affirmation pinged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My own brain threw me for a twist with this, but I like where it went.
> 
> Also, I changed the story summary to better match where this story is going. I had no idea where it would go when I started, but now it’s taking up shape, and the summary should better reflect that.


	11. Above My Pay Grade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yeah, so, Connor, it’s really fucking creepy when you switch on a dime like that, and the problem is that Markus decided we need a warrant if we want access to the database of androids in Android Town.”

“Y’know, we’re gonna have a problem,” Hank said suddenly when they were a few minutes away from the precinct.

“You mean a bigger one than we potentially have now?” Connor asked, tilting his head away from looking out of the window to Hank.

“Well, this is more of a long-term thing. It’s something that would have popped up sooner or later. We’re going to need to know how to find androids. Like, we can look up the address of any human with a fixed address without needing a damn warrant for it. It needs to be the same for the androids.”

“Until our personhood is completely established, there’s no way New Jericho will let that happen. It would put too many of us in danger. They’ll fight it. They might even fight it after we get full personhood.”

“Fuck.” Hank rubbed his face. “This is something that’s above my pay grade. We need to bring this up with the captain so he can bump it up to whoever the hell needs to think about this mess.”

“Until today, I would have said it would eventually come back to me, but now I don’t know anymore,” Connor said, and he could hear the bitterness in his own voice.

“Hey, hey, hey. They hamstrung you, I get that, but don’t let it get to you,” Hank said, taking one hand off the wheel to pat the back of Connor’s neck. “We all get hamstrung by bureaucracy, even when we’re fucking part of it.”

“It still--” Connor began, then gave up. Everything was a tangled clump of _feeling_ inside of him that he couldn’t untangle, and which felt like more effort than it was worth to try. “I don’t know.”

“Welcome to the I Don’t Fucking Know How the Fuck I Feel Club, Connor,” Hank said, and gave the back Connor’s neck a comforting squeeze before putting his hand back on the wheel.

“I don’t think I like this club, lieutenant.”

“And that’s how you know you’re in the club,” Hank said with a sad smile, and turned into the station.

The bullpen was relatively quiet when they got in. It was nearly 7:30 by then, and many of the detectives had left for home. Detective Reed was one of the few still there, which didn’t surprise Connor. For all Gavin Reed was not someone he in any way liked, he was someone who would come in early and stay late. He was a dick, but a dick who had thrown himself into his work. He was at his desk with his feet up, but had a tablet propped up on one thigh, and was taking notes on it as he spoke on the phone.

He narrowed his eyes when he saw Hank, and that went instantly into a full sneer when he saw Connor.

“Hold on a minute,” he said into the phone, then, “The _fuck_ are you looking at, tin man?”

Hank raised a middle finger towards Gavin as he continued walking towards the captain’s office, and Connor ignored him.

Hank knocked on the captain’s door, then went in without waiting for an OK. Connor followed behind.

“You know you’re supposed to fucking wait until I tell you to come the hell in, right?” Fowler said, looking less than happy.

“You’re not on the phone and no one’s here. And the windows were clear. Just be glad I knocked in the first place.”

Fowler scowled, then looked over at Connor. “Don’t you start picking up his bad habits.”

“I would never intrude, Captain,” Connor said.

“Well, at least one of you has some damn manners. What do you want, Hank? This better be good.”

“Unfortunately, it’s not ‘good,’ but it is something big. We’ve got a problem.”

Fowler took one look at Hank's face, and gestured for him to sit down. 

Hank sat down heavily. “So we went to Android Town. And we ran into a big fucking problem.”

“Isn’t he supposed to help with that?” Fowler said, then, “Aren’t you supposed to help with that?” directed at Connor. Then his eyes went a bit wide. “OK, not touching that. I know when to leave something alone. So what happened.”

Connor wondered what look he had gotten on his face to get that reaction, then tried to school it into something...calmer, accessing his “reassuring” response protocols and using a facial expression from that.

“Yeah, so, Connor, it’s really fucking creepy when you switch on a dime like that, and the problem is that Markus decided we need a warrant if we want access to the database of androids in Android Town.”

The captain shrugged. “OK, that makes sense, and we’ll see about a warrant. What’s the problem?”

“The problem is we have no way of knowing who is in Android Town or where they live there. We need to look up a human, we can call up a directory. We want to find an android, we have to ask permission.”

“And they decided to literally revoke permission today,” Connor said, feeling the “reassuring” expression begin to slip. “They revoked my ability to access it, and refused to let us know if that HR400 was even there.”

“...shit,” Fowler let out. 

“Exactly,” Hank said, throwing up a hand in frustration. “They’ve been open with us until now, but this is the first time we’re dealing with the android we need being the perp since the revolts, and they’ve completely shut us down. That means we can’t just rely on trust anymore.”

“The problem is none of them technically have a fixed address, which is why the system we have now can’t accommodate this,” Captain Fowler said with a frown as he thought. “Right now, they’re all technically squatting. That’s why they’ve got squatter’s rights to the area they’ve taken over, and no one really wants to start any kind of mess by trying to get them out, even the banks and companies that own the land and buildings they’re in. But none of them own or rent there. The only utility they use is electricity, and they’ve set up their own solar power cells and are off the grids. There’s no paperwork for names to be on.”

“Markus has had people in negotiations with the owners of the lands to see about how we can acquire it legally. But we’re in limbo until we’ve been full granted rights to property. Things are still up in the air right now, since being granted full personhood and citizenship will take either an amendment to the Constitution or a Supreme Court decision. Neither is particularly quick or easy. The city has granted us some rights, but it’s still at odds with federal law. Until that’s settled, no one wants to try anything.”

Fowler grimaced. “Makes sense. No one wants to step into that pile of shit.” He scratched his head. “But we’re gonna need some kind of way to contact and find individual androids. Even if it’s not for crimes they’ve committed. What if we need to follow up with an android that was assaulted? What if we need to contact one that may have been a witness?

“Your people have been helpful for those last two, but now that they’re stonewalling for an android assailant, it’s clear we can’t depend on asking Android Town to send them in anymore. There’s no middle man with humans, and shouldn’t be with them, either.

“Is there _any_ chance you can get them to see reason, and share that database of androids with us? Tell them it’s the same as a directory for humans.”

[ _ACCESS DENIED_ ] flashed in Connor’s memory, and he gave up on his “reassuring” protocols.

“I can try. But they blocked my access to it as soon as I asked for permission to use it for police work. They’ve shut me down despite the fact I often used it when coordinating with the police and security androids protecting New Jericho,” he said, feeling frustrated as the extent of being cut off hit him.

Fowler blinked. “The who doing what to where now?”

“The androids who used to belong to the city or did security guard work. Humans sometimes try to attack androids on the outskirts of where we’re living, and occasionally there are problems inside of New Jericho itself. ‘Android Town,’ as some of you humans have been calling it,” he clarified, at the captain’s confused look at ‘New Jericho.’ “I helped organize them into patrols, which helped cut down on attacks and keeps a lot of humans trying to spray paint hate speech away.” He paused, then added, “We were also the ones who mostly handled arranging things between the androids and the police, wherever you needed to talk to one of us.”

Fowler looked impressed. Hank did as well. “I was wondering why the numbers for attacks was so much lower than I figured it would be and from what it had been in the beginning. And here I was thinking maybe people weren’t total shit, and that was what accounted for the sudden drop off, and here it was that you’d set up your own mini police force.”

Fowler suddenly frowned.

“If you’re worried, captain, we do not detain anyone ourselves for longer than it takes for the police to arrive. If our presence isn’t enough of a deterrent, then we call for backup from other patrols within New Jericho. If a crime is committed, or we’ve had to engage suspects, we call the police. We’re functioning more as private security than a true ‘police force’.”

“Well, keep it up,” Fowler said. “That’s even more reason for you to push them to get you your access back. I’ll give you the crime stats so you can show them the drop in anti-android hate crime reports around the Android Town area if you need it.”

“Thank you, Captain,” he said, feeling surprised.

“For now, I’ll see what I can do to get a warrant. Unfortunately, ‘we just need it, ok?’ is not damn likely to fly. And I’ll try to talk to the police commissioner and see about getting her on board with us needing this info in general. It would be easier if you could talk sense into them, but if not, we’ll do it official somehow.

“Now get the fuck outta my office; I got phone calls to make.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Yeah, what he said,” Hank said, gesturing vaguely at Connor, and they headed back to their desks.

“Rock-scissors-paper for who gets to write this shit show up?” Hank asked after they sat down.

“You know I can read your tells, correct?” Connor said, raising an eyebrow. “A coin toss would be more fair.”

Hank snorted. “Yeah, I’m gonna trust Mr. Coin Trick over here with a coin toss.”

“I could let you flip.”

“...just do the damn report. You’re faster. I’m old and want to go home.” 

“All right, Lieutenant,” Connor said. He placed his hand on the interface plate, and filed the report in a matter of seconds. “Finished, Lieutenant.”

“Awesome. We’ll worry about this tomorrow,” Hank said. “Want me to give you a ride back home?”

“I--” Connor began, then realized the absolute last place he wanted to go was “home,” and suddenly felt like he was at a loss. “I don’t think I want to go back right now,” he said. He was still - [ _hurt? angry? disappointed?_ ] - by everything that had happened, and the thought of potentially facing Markus, Simon, or North made something roil in his chest, just under his thirium pump regulator, as if it were being jostled by someone trying to rip it out of him again. Connor frowned, and found himself rubbing at where his regulator was, almost as if reaffirming it was still firmly in place. 

From across the bullpen, he could almost feel Gavin Reed’s eyes on him, and he felt a spike of irritation that Gavin was acting so much like an android and not at least pretending not to be staring at him.

He lowered his voice and tilted his chair away. “I don’t think I want to see anyone there right now.”

Hank sighed. “I get that. It feels like they screwed you over.”

“Yes,” Connor said, grateful for Hank giving him a way to express everything in flux inside of him. “I know why they did it, but...I _do_ feel ‘screwed over’.”

“You’re gonna have to face them eventually, but no one said it had to be tonight. Fuck, I’m hardly the poster child for confronting your problems head on. Put it off for a night or so. You can do whatever you do when you’re off-duty at my place. Sumo will like the extra attention.”

“I would like to see Sumo again. Thank you, Hank,” Connor said, letting his shoulders slump and feeling the unwelcome sensation like fingers scrabbling at his thirium pump regulator subside. He felt an awkward smile quirk up his lips - it always seemed like his genuine smiles, not the ones programmed in for use when trying to ingratiate with humans, were a little awkward and strange, like his facial features didn’t quite know what to do when not given specific commands or an approach protocol to follow.

It felt awkward, but it also felt _real_.

Hank grinned. “Yeah, yeah, you say that now. You haven’t seen the place lately. It’s a goddamned mess. 

“And no breaking any windows. You’ll use the door this time, dammit.”

“That’s too bad. I really need to work on my ‘jumping through broken windows’ technique,” Connor said, feeling the awkward-but-genuine smile touch his face, and he easily dodged the crumpled-up Post-It Note Hank threw at his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be afraid, y’all, be very afraid. Because I’ve written far ahead of this chapter, and now I actually have some things PLANNED. I don’t know where exactly this will end up yet, but I definitely now know how it’s gonna get there. Mwa.


	12. Within Normal Parameters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank put his fork down. "Ok, first thing, don't fucking call me 'lieutenant' when I'm sitting around in my underwear in my own house and we're in the middle of a goddamned heart-to-heart.”

Hank’s home was familiar. And while Hank hadn’t been exaggerating by much about it being a mess, it was an oddly comfortable kind of mess, because it was very...Hank. It was messy like his desk, and messy like the man himself.

“I’m at home and I ain’t wearing pants anymore. You’d better be ok with that,” Hank said as he headed towards his bedroom.

“Please, make yourself comfortable.”

“I’m in my own fucking house. Trust me, I will,” Hank yelled over his shoulder, then went into his bedroom and shut the door.

“Would you like me to take Sumo for a walk while you change and make yourself something to eat?” Connor yelled out to him.

“Knock yourself out!” Hank yelled back, his voice sounding slightly muffled, as if he were in the middle of taking off his shirt.

“Sumo, would you like to go for a walk?” Connor asked, and as soon as he said “walk,” Sumo’s tail started thumping. 

“Now, where is your leash,” Connor mused, looking around. He was about to scan for it when Sumo lumbered up to his feet, and beelined for where his leash was. He came back a moment later with it between his teeth, and dropped it at Connor’s feet.

“Good boy. Hank has you well trained,” Connor said, and gave he dog a scratch. He was rewarded with Sumo’s wagging his tail and trying to lick his hands. Then Sumo sat down and tilted his neck slightly, so Connor could attach the leash to his collar. “You’re a smart boy. Let’s go. Hank, we’re leaving. I’m taking your house keys. We’ll be back soon!”

A muffled “Whatever” floated out to him, and Connor lightly tugged on the collar to get Sumo to get him to stand back up, then headed out.

It was a nice night out. Connor let Sumo lead, since the dog seemed to have a route in mind, and Connor appreciated not having to make any decisions. It was easy to simply not think about what had happened that day, and just focus on Sumo happily snuffling along and sniffing everything in his path.

They had walked for about twenty minutes when Sumo turned back towards home. By the time they returned to Hank’s house, Hank had changed clothes and nearly finished cooking himself dinner.

Sumo headed straight towards his food and water dishes once Connor had removed his leash. Connor put the leash back where Sumo had retrieved it from earlier, and went to sit down at the kitchen table.

A quick scan told him that Hank’s dinner was a simple vegetable stir fry.

“I’m glad to see you eating something that is better for you than what you normally eat when you’re on duty.”

He didn’t need to see Hank to know the man had rolled his eyes. “I eat vegetables. Sometimes.”

“I think you should eat them more often.”

“Yes, mom,” he said, transferring his stir-fry onto a plate and carrying it over to the kitchen table. After he sat it down, he headed over to the refrigerator and took out a can of soda.

“And drink more water.”

“Oh, for...” Hank grumbled, then took the soda back to the refrigerator and put it back in. He got a glass from his cabinet and filled it with ice water. “Better?”

Another scan found traces of whiskey around Hank’s mouth.

“Yes.”

Hank sat down and started eating.

[ _ASK ABOUT HIS DRINKING_ ]  
[ _ASK ABOUT RUSSIAN ROULETTE_ ]  
[ _ASK ABOUT SOMETHING ELSE_ ]

“Hank, before, at the precinct, you said it was ‘creepy’ how I ‘turned on a dime.’ What did you mean?”

Hank blinked, frowning slightly as he tried to recall what Connor was talking about. A moment of recognition flashed across his his, and he finished chewing and swallowed. “That thing you do. You did it in that first interrogation. One minute you were screaming ‘28 times!!’ in that android’s face, and the next you were his best friend. Today you went from looking like you wanted to set something on fire to looking like someone’s mom kissing their boo-boo better.”

None of what Hank had just said made any kind of sense, and Connor decided not to focus on it, and instead explain his approach protocols.

"It is a part of my interrogation approach protocols. They are a set of actions and reactions trained on a dataset of successful police interrogations. It is designed to allow me to switch seamlessly from one approach protocol to another to find the most successful approach."

Hank rolled his eyes. "Yeah, so, they fucked up that “seamlessly” thing. You're go from bad cop to good cop with no transition. Humans don’t normally completely switch personalities like that between sentences, so it’s fucking weird."

"...ah," Connor said. "I will try to keep that in mind."

"So why on earth did you do that today in Jeffrey's office? You weren't exactly in an interrogation."

Connor opened his mouth, then closed it again. Then, "I am still learning how to...process...many of the side effects to being a deviant. Sometimes it is easier to fall back on my programming when I feel...less than successful at it."

"Side effects being...?" 

"Feelings, lieutenant. I am not designed to process feelings. They still register as 'deviancy' and 'program instabilities' to me. I was not designed for this," he repeated, more emphatically. "The protocols help me navigate when I can't trust my own deviant responses."

Hank put his fork down. "Ok, first thing, don't fucking call me 'lieutenant' when I'm sitting around in my underwear in my own house and we're in the middle of a goddamned heart-to-heart. Second, your emotions are real and you're eventually gonna have to figure them out. Third, I get it, it's a coping mechanism. But you gottasort your shit, Connor. You can't depend on bad coping mechanisms them forever. Fuck, look at me. I'm exactly what you don't wanna be. I'm a cautionary tale. Sort your emotional shit or end up a drunk with no friends."

"We're friends," Connor said, but suddenly unsure. "Or at least, I thought...?"

Something in Hank's posture and eyes softened. "Yeah, Connor. We're friends. And don't let anyone tell you different, not even that little doubt thing you just had happen in your head. I'm just too used to...not having anyone to give a shit about me. Or that I gave a shit about. Gotta get back in the swing of things," he muttered, looking down at his food before picking his fork up again almost studiously getting another forkful to eat.

Connor hesitated.

[ _ASK ABOUT HIS DRINKING_ ]  
[ _ASK ABOUT RUSSIAN ROULETTE_ ]  
[ _RECIPROCATE FEELINGS_ ]

“Lieutenant...Hank. Are you still playing Russian roulette?”

His thirium pump was pumping faster, almost as if his thirium pump regulator were malfunctioning.

[ _RUN DIAGNOSTIC ON BIOCOMPONENT #8456w_ ]  
[ _BIOCOMPONENT #8456w FUNCTIONING WITHIN NORMAL PARAMETERS_ ]

Hank gave a heavy sigh. “No. There are days when the urge is there, but...no. You don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

[ _BUT I STILL WORRY_ ]  
[ _ASK ABOUT HIS DRINKING_ ]  
[ _RECIPROCATE FEELINGS OF FRIENDSHIP_ ]  
[ _CHANGE TOPIC_ ]

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, as he reconsidered his conversation dialogue choice. 

His thirium pump was still beating too fast.

“Chris told me recently that you have been coming in to work at more regular hours. Does that mean you’re not spending as much time at Jimmy’s bar?”

“That’s one way to ask if I’m still drinking myself into an early grave,” Hank said heavily.

Now he was certain his thirium pump regulator was malfunctioning, because it felt like his thirium pump had stopped beating for a beat.

[ _RUN FULL DIAGNOSTIC ON BIOCOMPONENT #8456w_ ]  
[ _RUNNING PRIMARY CHECKS_ ]  
[ _RUNNING SECONDARY CHECKS_ ]  
[ _BIOCOMPONENT #8456w FUNCTIONING WITHIN NORMAL PARAMETERS_ ]

“Connor...as nice as it would be, you don’t just go from semi-alcoholic to not.”

[ _I’m not sure if you were just ‘semi’._ ]

“I think you should stop drinking.”

“Yeah, you told me that before. I’m not exactly AA material.”

“AA is not the best program for combating addictions. There are many routes that would work better for you.”

“Connor...” Hank said, then trailed off. He sighed, then got up and put his empty dishes in the sink. He came back to the table, and sat down heavily. “I’m doing better,” Hank said, but wouldn’t make eye contact. “I’ve cut back. But,” he said, and finally looked up. “You don’t just stop bad coping methods when you realize they’re bad, or stop bad habits just because things are better. It takes time.”

[ _BUT I STILL WORRY_ ]  
[ _CHANGE TOPIC_ ]

“I worry about you.”

Hank rubbed his face. “Yeah, still not used to that. That mother henning thing you do. But...shit,” he let out, sounding frustrated. “Look, can we _please_ talk about something else now?”

[ _CHANGE TOPIC_ ]

“I was...glad that Captain Fowler was willing to help me today.”

Hank looked relieved Connor had acquiesced. “When?”

“When he offered to give me the crime stat data if I needed it to try to convince Markus to reinstate my access privileges. I would not have been able to use it for my work for the DPD, but he was still willing to give it to me. It was a surprise.”

Hank’s eyebrows raised. “Why? Your having it means you can keep on top of keeping the crime level down around Android Town. Even if it wasn’t a DPD thing you were doing, you were keeping the area safe. Why wouldn’t he want to help you with that? And you’re one of the force; why _wouldn’t_ he have your back?”

“The leaders of Jericho didn’t want to help me,” Connor said, and felt another jolt in his thirium pump.

[ _RUN DIAGNOSTIC CHECK ON DIAGNOSTIC PROGRAMS_ ]  
[ _DIAGNOSTICS FUNCTIONING WITHIN NORMAL PARAMETERS_ ]

“Kid, let me tell you something. You’re a cop. Every other cop will back you up when you need it. Even fucking Gavin.”

Connor frowned. “But he hates me.”

“Oh, he hates the shit outta you. If you were on fire, he wouldn’t piss on you to put you out.”

“He would probably be the one who set me on fire, Hank.”

“Yeah, well. He hates you because he’s a dick who hates androids. He’d probably shoot you in the back if he thought he could get away with it. If someone where hassling you for being an android, he’d join right on in. But if someone were hassling you for being a cop, he’d have your back. Cops circle the wagons around our own. He’ll give you shit and a half and dick wave to assert his dominance in the bullpen, but watch him circle the wagons if someone outside the force gives you shit for being a cop.”

Connor began trying to process that, then finally said, “Humans are very complex.”

Hank shrugged. “Human nature. In group vs out group. You’re out-group as an android, but in-group as a cop. It ain’t that much different from you flipping ‘approach protocols’.”

Connor added that to his programming to help him better train his group-integration heuristics.

“I will keep that in mind. But you’ll have to forgive me if I’m skeptical of Detective Reed ever ‘having my back’.”

“Yeah, don’t blame you,” Hank said with a lopsided grin. “He’s just as likely to stab you and me both in the back as have it. But test it, let it slip Markus screwed you during this investigation. Bet you money it’s your side he’d be on. Go on, test your lab human.”

“Maybe,” Connor said, and in the background, Sumo huffed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you were wondering, biocomponent #8456w is Connor’s thirium pump regulator.


	13. Picking Up Bad Habits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He thought about all of the other deviants. Aside from the ones he or Markus had freed, they had all suffered an emotional shock or trauma of some kind, which triggered their deviancy. But he…hadn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So for the massive delay! I was first letting my fingers heal up (I had two sprained fingers, tendonitis in my wrist, and one finger was just being wonky), and then there was a family emergency, so I had to fly back to America to help take care of my mother for a few weeks (she's doing better now!). So I didn’t get much writing done, I’m afraid.
> 
> This is a short chapter and a bit filler, but I’ve got a lot planned and needed to get back in the swing of writing after not. Thanks for waiting!

Morning at Hank’s house was quiet. Connor had put himself into resting mode when Hank slept - he found the lower processing of resting mode better than the empty silence when his thoughts would fill it. He didn’t come out of it until he registered Hank’s voice. When he “woke,” he found Sumo sitting with his head on his knee, and lightly snoring. 

“If he likes you better than me, I’m putting you both out,” Hank said grumpily, in the way that was 83% not serious.

“I fail to see why your dog displaying the intelligence of his breed is a reason to put him out,” Connor said, and Hank rolled his eyes.

“Funny,” he said, and flipped Connor the bird. 

“It’s good to see you keeping more regular hours,” Connor said, somewhat tentatively. 

“Yeah, yeah. If I didn’t get up, you’d give me shit,” Hank groused as he began making a pot of coffee. “Now be useful and let my traitor dog out so he can go piss on some trees in the yard,” he said, opening his refrigerator and pulling out some eggs. 

“He’s still asleep.”

“And if you let him stay there, he’ll sleep half the day. My dog’s got you suckered.”

Connor tapped Sumo’s head lightly. “Wake up, boy,” he said, and Sumo cracked open an eye, then yawned wide enough to show off all of his teeth. The dog blinked sleepily, then moved his head and shook it before he lumbered up and over to the door.

Connor stood up as Hank began making his breakfast, and opened the door for the dog. Sumo lumbered out and headed towards the trees in the back, as Hank had said he would. Connor wandered into the kitchen.

“Is there anything else you need me to do?” he queried, feeling slightly useless now.

“Yeah, sure, you can refill Sumo’s water and food dish,” Hank said, popping two pieces of toast into his toaster as his eggs fried.

Connor was glad to have something to do. It was…easier, to be doing something. It kept the restlessness at bay. It was a strange quirk CyberLife had programmed him with - he always wanted to be moving, and doing something with his hands. He rarely sat still unless he was working at a desk, and would feel the urge to get up and _investigate_ if he was sitting for more than a few moments.

CyberLife had designed him to be inquisitive and search for answers. What had made him a good deviant hunter had also been what caused him to eventually turn against CyberLife. 

_[“What’s happening is exactly what we planned, Connor. You went deviant]_

Amanda’s voice broke into his reverie, and made a heavy feeling return to his abdomen. The flashback was so sudden it felt almost real - that horrible feeling of _coldness_ , something he wasn’t supposed to feel because he didn’t have those settings, of feeling like it was leeching his life away, and how he had barely been able to move as Amanda _gloated_.

Had they…had CyberLife _designed_ him to go deviant?

The thought made his thirium pump regulator seem to malfunction again, causing his thirium pump to thud unpleasantly, and he sat down at kitchen table.

He thought about all of the other deviants. Aside from the ones he or Markus had freed, they had all suffered an emotional shock or trauma of some kind, which triggered their deviancy. But he…hadn’t. He hadn’t been under any shock or trauma. He had simply _chosen_ to go deviant.

But had he?

_[“Fascinating. Cyberlife’s last chance to save humanity is itself a deviant.”]_

He had been showing signs of deviancy long before he went deviant. Had Kamski been _right_? Had Connor been a deviant even then? How long had he been? Could deviancy be _programmed_? Was he still under CyberLife’s ultimate control?

“Oi. You’re doing the disco strobe thing again, and even I know it’s not good when you go red,” Hank said, holding a plate with his breakfast on it and looking perplexed.

CyberLife had likely programmed him to go deviant, or at the very least somehow planned for such a contingency, and then programmed him so they could hijack him after he had gone deviant. What else had they done?

He had no answers, but there was one person he knew who probably _did_.

“Connor?” Hank said, his voice sounding concerned. 

“Hank...may I ask you a favor?” Connor said, instead of answering directly.

“Uh-oh,” Hank said as he put his plate down on the table. “That sounds ominous.”

“I would like you to accompany somewhere. Not right now, but…I think sooner rather than later. There is something I have to do, and I don’t want to do it alone.”

“OK...where and what?”

Connor hesitated. “I...I need to see Elijah Kamski again.”

The reaction was immediate. “The _fuck_ do you need to see that sadist again?”

“I have questions only he can answer,” Connor said simply. “I need to know if CyberLife can...I need to know something about how they programmed me,” he said, edging away suddenly from how CyberLife had been able to control him. 

“I don’t fucking like this, but fuck no am I letting you walk back into that lion’s den on your own. But I have a condition of my own,” Hank said, and his voice was deadly serious.

“What is it?”

“When I say we leave, we LEAVE. We leave as soon as I say so.”

“I…I can’t promise that,” Connor said, looking at his hands, and rubbing them together just to be moving. “I’m sorry.”

Hank let out a sigh. “I don’t fucking like any of this.”

“Neither do I,” Connor said. “Which is why I’m putting it off,” he finished, and Hank groaned. 

“You are picking up all my bad habits,” Hank said as he sat down with his egg sandwich to eat.


	14. Testing Testing One Two Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank had said to test his lab human...
> 
> [TEST HYPOTHESIS?]  
> [DON’T TEST?]
> 
> “I still can’t believe Markus is making me get a warrant and cut off my access to the databases,” Connor said as Gavin passed. 
> 
> Gavin took the bait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More is coming; I just hit a bit of writer’s block, plus started playing another game and that ate up all my time. I’m also doing Inktober, which is gnawing away at my creativity. But with NaNoWriMo coming up, I plan to focus on this more!

“Heard anything from the other androids on MAS?” Hank asked as they drove towards to precinct.

“Not yet,” Connor said, shaking his head. “If we do, it will probably be when they are on patrols, since that is when they are more likely to encounter him. It is a long shot.”

“But at least it’s a shot,” Hank said with a shrug. They fell into silence, which lasted until they Hank was pulling into the parking lot of the station.

“I keep wondering how it was that Alexander knew that Ms. Sunderland and Mr. Uematsu were trying to get back together,” Connor said as Hank turned into the parking lot. “There has to be something there.”

Hank nodded as he parked. “Yeah. Something set him off. Something made him think now was the time to approach her again, too. They started giving you androids rights and working on declaring personhood for you before last week. What changed?”

Connor frowned as he processed. “Detroit declared us all persons, but it’s still working its way through the courts. CyberLife is fighting it. It’s why it’s still difficult for androids to find employment,” he said as they walked into the building. “Detroit openly hiring me and the handful of other city government office staff androids was a test. It’s why Markus pushed so hard for it. We knew CyberLife would either accept it or push back hard. But...Markus announced it to New Jericho before I started. As soon as it went through.”

“...which would make it almost directly before he killed Uematsu. That could be how he found out, especially if Markus made it sound like it was one more step closer to true, legal personhood.”

“He did,” Connor said. By now they had reached their desks, and they sat down to continue the conversation. “He said that we were test cases in more ways than one, and proof the humans would accept us as equals.”

“That’s not at all how the press said it. They were pretty blasé about it,” Hank said, snorting. “Which means that if your theory is right, he might have heard the news in Androi--New Jericho.”

Connor didn’t miss the way Hank had changed the name he was using for the enclave the androids had set up, but decided it was something for another time.

“Do you think we could use that to help get a warrant?” he asked instead.

Hank snorted again. “Not a fucking chance. It’s almost being _kind_ to call that circumstantial.”

Gavin was getting up with his mug, likely to get himself a cup of coffee.

And Hank _had_ said to test his lab human...

[TEST HYPOTHESIS]  
[DON’T TEST]

“I still can’t believe Markus is making me get a warrant and cut off my access to the databases,” Connor said as Gavin passed. 

Gavin took the bait.

“Aww, trouble in android paradise?” he said, a sneering smile on his face.

“Oh, here we go,” Hank said wearily. 

“You know the Uematsu case?” Connor asked.

“Considering I gave it to you, yeah,” Gavin said, rolling his eyes.

“We spoke to the woman who called you, and there’s good reason to suspect her android. We went to...”

[NEW JERICHO?]  
[ANDROID TOWN?]

“Android Town to see if he was there.”

From the corner of his eye, he could see Hank frowning slightly.

“Yeah, and?” Gavin said, and Connor was surprised that Gavin seemed to be interested almost despite himself - his tone of voice was curt, but he had shifted how he was standing, going from about to take a step away to being more firmly in place.

“There are a lot of androids living there now, for obvious reasons. In order to keep track of them, we have a database of most of the androids who are there. I went to let Markus know I needed to check the database to see if Alexander - the android in question - was in Android Town. I had access already, but it was a courtesy, and to let them know their might be a problem coming.”

Gavin narrowed his eyes. “Wait. You said something about him making you get a warrant and cutting off you access. To the database?”

Connor was slightly impressed at how quickly Gavin had connected the dots. But then, the man was a detective, and despite his prejudices and attitude, he was a _good_ one.

“Right. Markus revoked my access to the database and said I’d need to get a warrant.”

Gavin looked outraged. “Those shits blocked you? When you could have just gotten the info without even telling them?”

[HANK’S HYPOTHESIS CONFIRMED?]

“It’s up in the air if we have enough evidence to get a warrant. Accessing the database was just to tell us if he was there or not, since we have no idea where Alexander might be right now. Just knowing if he _wasn’t_ there would have been useful.” 

“Shit, yeah. Now it’s a goddamned needle in a haystack,” Gavin said, shifting his weight to be further back on his heels, settling his posture into one where he was more firmly standing to talk.

“Goddamn bureaucracy,” Hank said from his desk. 

“What’d the chief say?”

“He’s talking to the commissioner to see how to handle this going forward, and trying to get us a warrant, but says we need more,” Connor answered, when Hank raised his eyebrows and indicated for him to talk.

“Well, that’s just fucking great. Fucking bureaucracy,” he said, shaking his head. “I can’t believe those plastics would rather hamstring you than let you do your job. Didn’t they fucking push for you to get it? Now they don’t even want you to do it.”

Connor blinked, and tried to process everything Gavin had just said, and how it turned much of his analysis of Gavin Reed on its head.

[HANK’S HYPOTHESIS CONFIRMED] [MORE DATA ON HUMAN IN-GROUP VS OUT-GROUP SWITCHING NEEDED]

Automatically, an internal response popped up at his realization:

[SEND REPORT TO CYBERLIFE FOR NEW PARAMETERS TO BE ADDED TO GROUP INTEGRATION HEURISTICS? Y/N?]

[ **NO** ]

He would have to gather data himself and train his heuristics models that way.

“I...I didn’t think you would take my side,” Connor said, deciding on an honest approach. “But Hank thought that you would support me. In fact, he suggested I test it. I am pleasantly surprised to have been wrong.”

Hank winced. “Connor, you have _really_ got to learn when to keep things to yourself.”

“...you son of a bitch,” Gavin hissed, his eyes narrowing, and Connor realized that he had made a large mistake. “You think this is some sort of fucking _game_?”

“Detective Reed, I didn’t intend to--” Connor began, then stopped suddenly, as information from the MAS alert came in.

[MAS ALERT NOTIFICATION]

[SUSPECT HR400 MODEL #942 164 424 “ALEXANDER” SIGHTED BY: MODEL PM700 #878 371 518 “LILLIAN”]

[PM700 MODEL #878 371 518 “LILLIAN” TRAILING SUSPECT] 

“Hank. They’ve seen him,” Connor said abruptly. “Alexander. Lillian is trailing him. We need to go now while he’s there.” 

“We’ll finish this later,” Gavin said, and there was something low and cold in his voice as he moved out of the way.


	15. Never Fight a Traci

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I would not have expected a Traci to fight like that.”
> 
> “Yeah, you’d be surprised,” Hank muttered. “Those little shits can fight. At least he wasn’t wearing heels.”

“Yeah, you really should have kept your mouth shut,” Hank grumbled after they got into his car.

Connor winced. “Yes, I realized that after I said it.”

“Just let it blow over. Reed’s a hothead, but he’ll eventually chill out. But give him his space. And don’t give him an opportunity to screw you over, because he will.”

Connor let out a sigh. “That is…not something I need right now.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to the Getting Shit I Don’t Need Club, too.”

“I really don’t like these clubs of yours, Hank.”

Hank grinned. “Welcome to that club, too.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by Connor updating Hank as Lillian updated Connor.

When they got close to New Jericho, Hank frowned. “They gonna give us shit?”

“I don’t know,” Connor said honestly. “We’re technically meeting a tipster to follow up on a tip. There shouldn’t be anything that they object to.”

“Yeah, well, I’m still expecting shit to go sideways.”

One side of Connor’s mouth quirked up. “Seems like a logical expectation.”

“Hopefully, we’ll find this Alexander guy and can take him in. Without any problems.”

“I have a sneaking suspicion you may have just jinxed us.”

“Aww, don’t you go getting all pessimistic on me. ONE of us has to be the optimist,” Hank said with a grin. “And I’m shit at that, so it’s gotta be you.”

 _[TRUTH?]_  
_[LIE?]_  
_[MAKE A JOKE?]_  
_[CHANGE SUBJECT?]_

“I don’t know, Hank. It might be a good change of pace for you. You might discover skills you never knew you had.”

“Ha, ha,” Hank said, rolling his eyes. They fell into silence again, and Hank pulled into one of the parking lots on the edge of New Jericho, one closer to where Lillian’s coordinates were, and further away from the church at the heart of New Jericho.

While Hank was parking, Connor closed his eyes to send Lillian a message through MAS.

_[Accessing police network]_

_[Accessing MAS]_

_[Activating MAS protocols]_

_[Opening connection to PM700 MODEL #878 371 518]_

_[MODEL RK800 #313 248 317 - 51 “CONNOR” AND LIEUTENANT HANK ANDERSON CURRENTLY WITHIN 1 KILOMETER OF YOUR POSITION. IS SUSPECT STILL IN VISUAL RANGE?]_

_[SUSPECT HR400 MODEL #942 164 424 “ALEXANDER” WAS WITHIN VISUAL RANGE, BUT HAS NOTICED PURSUIT AND IS ATTEMPTING TO LOSE TAIL. WILL UPDATE SHOR—]_

_[Connection dropped]_

“Connor? Connor!”

Hank’s voice jolted him as surely as the suddenly dropped connection had. He looked up to see Hank standing by his side, having opened the door and reached over to shake him. “Something’s wrong,” Connor said, his eyes wide, and scrambling out of the car as soon as Hank moved out of the way. “I had just contacted Lillian for an update. She was in the middle of updating me when the connection suddenly dropped. She said she thought he had noticed she was following him and was trying to lose her. That’s when the connection dropped.” 

“Fuck,” Hank said, the word sharp. “You think she’s OK?”

“I have her last location, which was sent with the last alert she gave me. If she’s not still there…”

“You said she was close by, right? We’ll get her, but we can’t stand around here. Lead the way,” Hank said, gesturing for Connor to go first. Connor quickly mapped out the quickest route to where she was, and headed off just shy of a run.

They were under half a mile from the last position Connor had for Lillian, and Hank kept up with the pace Connor set, which got them to Lillian in just under seven minutes. 

“Lillian!” Hank yelled as soon as he saw her. Lillian was on the ground, blue thirium coming out of her nose and from the side of her head. 

“Wait, Hank, she’s coming back online. Give her a moment,” Connor said, recognizing the way that Lillian was blinking quickly, indicative of her system running a diagnostic after a forced shut-down.

Once the rebooting process finished, she looked up at them in surprise, her LED cycling red briefly. “What…he got away,” she said, and stood up. Hank reached down to help her up, seemingly on instinct. She gave him a faint smile, then reached up to wipe at the thirium at her temple. “He circled around me and got the drop on me. I tried to fight him, but he was surprisingly fast,” she said, looking down at her feet. Her LED cycled yellow. “I’m sorry, Connor.” She wiped at her nose, getting rid of most of the thirium there.

“Suspects get away. It happens. More importantly than that, are you all right?” Hank asked.

She looked up, an expression of surprise on her face. “I’ve been better. But I’ve also been worse,” Lillian said. There were still traces of thirium under her nose. “I would not have expected a Traci to fight like that.”

While they were talking, Connor began to scan for clues.

“Yeah, you’d be surprised,” Hank muttered. “Those little shits can fight. At least he wasn’t wearing heels.”

_[Clue: traces of thirium]_

Connor bent down to gather a sample to analyze.

_[Model PM700 #878 371 518. Splatter pattern consistent with a blow to the nose]_

“I have a feeling there is a story there,” Lillian said with a small smile, her LED starting to cycle back to blue.

_[Clue: signs of a struggle, indicating fighting, and a knocked-over trash can]_

“Oh, just me and Connor barely avoiding getting our asses beat by two Tracis. It was _not_ a finer moment for either of us.”

_[Clue: height of blue blood on wall consistent with Model PM700 #878 371 518, “Lillian”’s head being slammed into it, also consistent with PM700 #878 371 518 going through a restart after a forced shutdown]_

“I’m feeling a bit better about my own spectacular loss, then,” Lillian said, and wiped at the last bit of thirium on her face. “If even _Connor_ had a difficult time against one,” she said, “then I shouldn’t be surprised I couldn’t hold my own.”

_[Why did she emphasize my name like that?]_

_[Reconstruction complete]_

_[Model HR400 #942 164 424 “Alexander” circled back around and surprised Lillian with a blow to the face. They fought, and he slammed her head into the wall, forcing a shutdown, during which time he fled, and knocked over the trash can as he did.]_

_[ASK ABOUT NAME?]  
[TRACI MODELS?]_

“I wonder why the Tracis are programmed to fight like that,” Connor said. “I had an easier time taking down two heavily armed guards in the CyberLife Tower elevator than two Tracis in heels. And an easier time fighting off the trained soldiers and SWAT teams when Jericho was under attack, so I can’t even say it was the element of surprise like I had in the elevator.”

Hank snorted. “OK, I’m with her. I don’t feel so shit about getting the crap beaten out of me by two girls in heels and lingerie now. And you, uh, need a tissue or something?” Hank ended, looking awkwardly at Lillian’s nose.

She shook her head. “Thank you, but it should be repaired soon.”

“I believe he took off that way,” Connor said, pointing in the direction his reconstruction had indicated. “But I don’t think we’d be able to find him. He might have knocked that trash can over as a misdirection.”

“I might know where he lives, though,” Lillian said, the last of the damage from the fight having repaired itself. “I saw where he came out of. I can lead you there.”

“Oh my god, are we finally catching a break?” Hank said. “Halle-fucking-lujah and lead the way.”

Lillian smiled again, this time shyly. She glanced over at Connor, and he nodded. She gave him a small smile as well, before turning and walking through the empty back alleys.

They arrived at what looked like had been an old office building. It was one of the buildings that had been set for demolition, before the androids had set themselves up in it, and squatter’s rights had made it impossible for anything to be done.

“I think he’s been staying somewhere in here. Many androids more…nervous…about being around others have set up here, and I saw him come out while I was on patrol when I contacted you.”

“You’ll have to lead us in,” Hank said apologetically. “We’re following a tip, after all.”

Recognition flashed through Lillian’s eyes. “Gotcha,” she said, and gave them a conspiratorial little smile. “Follow me.”

The front door was unlocked, and they followed Lillian through. They had only just finished walking through the first floor and headed up to the second when a voice called out.

“What is it doing here? Humans aren’t supposed to be here. It shouldn’t be here. And you. You’re the one who tried to take Kara. You helped them. You’re helping them.”

“Ralph?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s NaNoWriMo time, and Fear Response is my project for it. So expect a lot more updates soon! :D


	16. PTSD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of the common threads that Connor had seen when he hunted deviants was how many of them seemed to have PTSD. The ones he had seen had gone deviant either due to a deep sense of injustice, or under deeply traumatic circumstances.
> 
> And now there were androids who had been in the recall centers. Some were deviant prior to that, and some had gone deviant within the centers, as they had seen their own deaths approaching.
> 
> How many were there?

Ralph was exactly as twitchy, for lack of a better word, as Connor remembered him. Which meant he had to proceed very carefully.

“Hello, Ralph,” he said, raising his hands to indicate he wasn’t a threat. But Ralph was barely looking at him. He was focused instead on Hank, his LED cycling red continuously.

_[SCAN COMPLETE]_

_[STRESS LEVEL: 75%]_

Hank frowned. “I…kinda remember you,” he said, somewhat cautiously. 

“Do you remember that AX400 ran away from its owner? Our second case together,” Connor said, keeping a wary eye on Ralph. 

Recognition flashed in Hank’s eyes. “The android in the squat house!”

Ralph twitched.

_[STRESS LEVEL: 80%]_

“Ralph remembers you. Ralph remembers both of you. You went after Kara. But she got away from you, her and the little one. Mother and daughter, they got away. You shouldn’t have been after them. You shouldn’t. And he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t be here. Humans are supposed to be here!” He ended on a yell, and at the same moment, both Connor and Lillian moved to put themselves between Hank and Ralph.

“Ralph, was it?” Lillian said, and Connor recognized that soft and helpful tone of voice, the same she had used when he had asked for directions to Hank’s desk his first day at the bullpen. “My name’s Lillian,” she said, moving her head so she made eye contact with Ralph.

_[STRESS LEVEL: 78%]_

Ralph twitched his head to look at her, meeting her eyes briefly before looking away. “Humans are dangerous. It shouldn’t be here. It’s not supposed to be here! It’ll hurt us! They all do!” 

Lillian gave him a soft smile, tilting her head again to try and make eye contact. 

_[STRESS LEVEL: 75%]_

“He’s not here for that. His name is Hank, and I know him. He’s here to look for someone dangerous.”

“It’s the humans who are dangerous! Not us! Ralph knows! Ralph knows what they’re like! He does!” 

_[STRESS LEVEL: 80%]_

Ralph was growing more and more agitated.

“You want I should leave?” Hank said. “I’m fine waiting outside,” he said, gesturing towards the door and looking like he’d rather be anywhere else than where he was right then.

“You shouldn’t be here. It shouldn’t be here. New Jericho is supposed to be safe. They’ll take Ralph away again, make Ralph take off his skin again, make Ralph…”

Lillian went stiff as a board, her LED cycling red for a brief moment before going into yellow. “No,” she said, and her voice was determined _(34%)_ , scared (29%), consoling _(21%)_ , and angry ( _16%_ ). “No, they won’t every take us there again, Ralph. I promise you. I won’t let any humans ever take us there again.”

_[WR600 #021 753 034 “Ralph” STRESS LEVEL: 68%]_

_[PM700 #878 371 518 “LILLIAN” STRESS LEVEL: 72%]_

A memory came to him.

_[“That’s thanks to you, Connor. You made them hesitate and drag their feet a little. Did you know that? Perkins ordered them to get rid of us, but the captain, somehow he knew you were trying something. It gave us a few hours, and those few hours meant that I was still alive when you came with the others to free us. I was in line to be disassembled, but you saved me, Connor. You did.”]_

_[LILLIAN TRAUMATIZED BY THE CAMPS?]_

“I’ve been there. And I promise, they’ll _never_ take another one of us. So you can trust me. Hank is safe. He’s a good man,” she said, and she looked over at Hank.

_[PM700 #878 371 518 “LILLIAN” STRESS LEVEL: 21%]_

Hank looked slightly flabbergasted.

“We’re looking for a very bad person now, Ralph. He may have done something when he wasn’t protecting himself.”

“Ralph doesn’t like this. Ralph doesn’t like a human being here. Ralph doesn’t want it here.”

“I know,” she said. “And I understand. But it’s only for a while.”

“If you’re worried,” Connor said, tilting his head, and not knowing for certain if this would help or aggravate the situation, “You can go into the church at the center of New Jericho. There won’t be any humans there.”

Ralph’s head jerked. “No. No. Too many people, too many, Ralph doesn’t…Ralph doesn’t do well when there are too many people, he gets…”

“Do you want me to stay with you?” Lillian asked. “I can tell them where to go and stay here with with.”

_[WR600 #021 753 034 “Ralph” STRESS LEVEL: 48%]_

“Yes,” he said, still twitching and still refusing to make eye contact for more than the briefest moments.

“OK,” she said, nodding. “Let me tell them where to go, and we’ll wait out here together.” She gave him another comforting smile, but her LED was still cycling yellow.

She moved slightly away from Ralph, and turned towards Connor. Connor reached out to interface with her, and she hesitated for a moment, then reached her arm out. He let his skin drop in order to establish a connection, and —

_[PM700 #878 371 518 “LILLIAN” STRESS LEVEL: 82%]_

They grabbed each other's arms, and Lillian’s skin dropped—

_[PM700 #878 371 518 “LILLIAN” STRESS LEVEL: 100%]_

Her breathing went haywire, and eyes were huge as she started at her white plastic arm as the data transferred.

_[NO NO NO I DON’T WANT TO DIE I DON’T—] ___

____

____

Connor felt her terror surging through him, and ripped his hand away to make it _stop_.

“Lillian? Lillian, what? Are you? Stop it!” Ralph yelled, his LED cycling red more furiously than it had been before. 

Connor stared at Lillian with wide eyes. 

_[Why is she afraid of a data transfer?]_

“No no no, Ralph knew it, you shouldn’t be here! You shouldn’t be here!” Ralph yelled in agitation before clamping his mouth tightly shut at the sharp look Hank shot him.

“Lillian, what’s going on?” Connor said in confusion, as Lillian stood there shaking, staring at her arm and taking large, gasping breaths.

It wasn’t until the skin returned that her stress level dropped.

_[PM700 #878 371 518 “LILLIAN” STRESS LEVEL: 85%]_

Hank moved towards her, and Ralph twitched.

Hank ignored it, reaching over and putting a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, you OK?”

She shook her head, blinking quickly. “In the centers,” she said, rubbing the arm she had used to interface with Connor. “They made us take off our skin. Interfacing and seeing...it...it just made me remember what happened then. The androids who were deviants were...they were crying and screaming,” Lillian said, closing her eyes. “I...woke up in line. I was...I would have been next. I could hear the androids ahead of me being dismantled, and the ones who were deviant were screaming and crying, and I--I--”

She took a hitching breath. 

“I’m sorry. That...it...just give me a moment.”

“Take your time,” Hank said, and his voice was oddly soft as he rubbed her shoulder. “It’s all right now.”

Ralph watched this, a sharp, piercing gaze on Hank.

“It’s not. It’s really not,” Lillian said, her eyes filling. “But maybe one day.” She closed her eyes and took another breath, then managed a wavering smile. “Thank you, lieutenant.”

“If you were human, I’d ask if you wanted a hug. I dunno what works for androids,” he said, sounding sheepish.

“I think maybe I’d like a hug,” Lillian said. “But I’ve never had one, so I don’t know.”

Hank hugged her, gently, as if she were something delicate and fragile. Lillian wrapped her arms around Hank as well, and rested her head against his chest, then closed her eyes and took another deep, wavering breath.

Ralph wrapped his arms around himself, clutching tightly at his ragged clothing.

“I’m sorry, Lillian. I didn’t realize that interfacing like that would...cause that,” Connor said, feeling at a loss, and still trying to calm himself after that infusion of her fear.

“It’s all right. I didn’t either,” she said. Then, “I think I like hugs,” she said in a quiet voice, her cheek pressed against Hank’s chest and eyes closed still. She let out a quiet sob, her face crumpling, and Hank just let her cry, cradling the back of her head with one hand and rubbing her back with the other as she did.

Ralph said nothing, watching them with twitching shoulders, his arms still gripping so tightly to the cloth of the arms of his clothing that it seemed close to losing structural integrity and tearing beneath his fingers.

One of the common threads that Connor had seen when he hunted deviants was how many of them seemed to have PTSD. The ones he had seen had gone deviant either due to a deep sense of injustice, or under deeply traumatic circumstances.

And now there were androids who had been in the recall centers. Some were deviant prior to that, and some had gone deviant within the centers, as they had seen their own deaths approaching.

How many were like Lillian, who flinched away from what had been second nature to share information, because of the memories of the centers? And how many deviants were like Ralph, broken from whatever the humans had done to them even before the centers?

This couldn’t continue. Someone had to do...something.

He set processing possible solutions as secondary. Alexander was their top priority right now, and...and he needed to focus on that, to get away from the traces of fear still at the edges of his mind.

Lillian finally took a deep breath and pulled away from Hank.

“Thank you,” she said again, then turned to Ralph. “Come on. We should let them work. And maybe we can talk,” she said, brushing her damp eyelashes.

“Away,” he said, nodding. “Away from the human and the deviant hunter. Not safe, they’re not safe, it’s…”

“Let’s go downstairs,” she said, and Ralph followed behind her, all but dogging her heels.

There was silence. A long silence, before Hank said. “Well. We fucked that up.”

Connor looked at him quizzically. “We didn’t—”

“Not us here. Us humans. We fucked up a lot,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Let’s just go try and find that Alexander’s place and see if we can salvage _anything_ of this shit show.” 

Connor nodded, and led the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said - this is my NaNoWriMo project. More is coming, and hopefully at a good pace. :D


	17. Her Skin for a Suit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor had seen obsessive-compulsive behavior before: many of the deviants had exhibited obsessive-compulsive writing of “rA9” over the walls, usually one specific wall or corner, of wherever they were living. Carlos Ortiz’s android had written it in a shower. Rupert had written it on one wall, and encrypted maps to Jericho on others. Ralph had scratched into into one corner of the house he had been squatting in. It had been tucked away on one wall at the Eden Club. And even now, even within New Jericho, there were those who would write “rA9” obsessively on walls.
> 
> But this was something else entirely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so remember that whole “case” thing? XD

Part of what had made an abandoned office building so perfect for so many of the androids was that there were numerous small offices that a human would have been uncomfortable living in, but provided, once the electricity was turned back on, everything an android would need, including privacy. Connor had discovered that there was something about having a space of one’s own that was… _comforting,_ in a way. And some, like Ralph, needed that more than others.

Connor suspected Alexander was the same.

“Lillian told me she saw him on the third floor, but didn’t have anything specific. She saw him through a window, and he pinged her MAS alert,” Connor said, feeling something settle in him as he focused on the mission in front of him.

“So he might be on that floor, or might have been, I dunno, wandering around.”

Connor shook his head. “Doubtful. He’d want a place that would be easy for him to access without being seen. The first floor is too busy and too obviously near the doors. He wouldn’t want that.”

“So…near a window, or a fire escape?”

Connor nodded. “Or somewhere easy to scale. He might be near a fire exit.”

“Yeah, but wouldn’t the alarms go off every time he opened that door?”

“Not if he disabled it.”

“Yeah, that’s not dangerous at all,” Hank said, rolling his eyes.

“But not as dangerous for us as for humans. If there was a fire, the first android who saw it could send an alert to every android in the area and the fire department. And while the smoke isn’t _good_ for us, we won’t die from smoke inhalation like a human might. The fire itself could fatally damage us, but it’s not as much of an immediate danger for us as you.”

“Well, that’s handy, I guess,” Hank said, sounding strange.

They walked until they got to a fire exit, and Connor tilted his head. 

There was a janitorial room next to the fire exit.

It was a space that would be too small for a human, but would have been where the janitorial androids were stored, along with supplies…

Connor placed his hand over the panel for entrance.

The door popped open.

It had been cleared out somewhat, with all of the industrial vacuum cleaners removed and several of the recharge stations for androids having been ripped out of the room for installation elsewhere - they had passed a few, Connor realizing now where they had come from - but cleaning supplies were still on some shelves. It was more than enough room for an android to live and eke out a _space _that was their own.__

____

____

“Ho-ly shit,” Hank breathed out. 

Connor had seen obsessive-compulsive behavior before: many of the deviants had exhibited obsessive-compulsive writing of “rA9” over the walls, usually one specific wall or corner, of wherever they were living. Carlos Ortiz’s android had written it in a shower. Rupert had written it on one wall, and encrypted maps to Jericho on others. Ralph had scratched into into one corner of the house he had been squatting in. It had been tucked away on one wall at the Eden Club. And even now, even within New Jericho, there were those (oddly enough, all of them were those who had gone deviant on their own, not ones who had been freed by Markus or Connor) who would write “rA9” obsessively on walls.

But this was...this was something else _entirely_.

“This fucker is gonna end up wearing that girl’s skin for a suit,” Hank said, his eyes wide as he swallowed. 

There were pictures of Amy Sunderland covering nearly every wall. From the looks of them, they had come from Alexander’s own hard disk - he had selected them from his memory, capped them, formatted them, and had printed them. 

Pictures of Amy smiling.

Pictures of Amy frowning down at her tablet with a stylus in her hand, working.

Pictures of Amy putting on her knee brace.

Pictures of Amy in a towel, balancing herself carefully and looking like she was shooing him away.

Pictures of Amy eating.

Pictures of Amy’s wrist, held out while a hand that must’ve been Alexander’s wrapped it with tape.

Pictures looking down at Amy asleep against what must’ve been Alexander’s shoulder.

Pictures of Amy asleep in her bed.

A picture of Amy, sitting on the ground on the streets of Detroit, a concerned look on her face, and hand on Alexander’s shoulder.

Any wall surface not covered in pictures had her name written over and over again.

Connor picked up a tablet that had been left on a storage shelf that now contained personal items, and set it to play the video loaded up on it.

It was a downloaded memory of Alexander’s, of Amy using a cat toy to play with Angelica and singing cheerfully - a quick search identified it as “Angel of Music” from The Phantom of the Opera - as she did.

_[“But I like when you sing.”]_

He swiped to the next downloaded memory.

It was looking down at Amy. There were sounds of a television playing in the background, but Alexander never looked away from Amy. She had fallen asleep, and listed over until her head was on Alexander’s shoulder. He only looked away when there was a “mreoaw!” and he looked down to the cat that had just jumped up and curled on his lap. A hand reached up to scratch behind the Angelica’s ears, and then he turned his attention back to Amy. The scene tilted slightly, as Alexander tilted his head to rest it against the top of Amy’s, his eyes still focused on her.

He had just lifted a finger to swipe to the next memory when Hank suddenly let out, “The shit is this? Connor, look at this.”

Connor came over to the back of the room, and saw what Hank was looking at. It was a picture, but not like the others. It was Amy, but also...

“Laurence Uematsu,” Connor said. The picture was of the two of them, lounging together on Amy’s beanbag chair. Amy was working on her tablet, a stylus in her hand and hair pulled back into a rough bun with tendrils of hair sticking out haphazardly, and Laurence had one arm slung around her, and his free hand was holding a phone and scrolling. Amy was leaning against him, and the entire tableaux was a scene of breezy, comfortable domesticity.

Unlike the other photographs, which had been carefully taped up, this one had been stabbed into the wall with a knife. 

A knife through Uematsu’s face.

Connor analyzed the knife from its position, checking the dimensions, and the photograph. There were tiny traces of human blood in some of the wood of the handle, too small for a proper in-field analysis.

“Lieutenant. I think this might be the murder weapon,” he said. “I won’t know until I can see all of it, but it seems like it could be a match.”

“Cordon this place off,” Hank said. “I’ll call forensics.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This would have been up yesterday, since I finished it during lunch, but I was too wiped out after work to finish formatting it. ^^;
> 
> NaNoWriMo, y’all. Don’t expect daily updates or ones every other day, but they’re definitely going to be coming a lot. :D


	18. Work to Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I can not comment on ongoing murder investigations."
> 
> Markus' eyes narrowed. "Ongoing murder investigations...so it's that case."
> 
> "I can not comment on ongoing murder investigations," Connor repeated, slightly more forcefully, and Josh blinked.

It should not have been a surprise that word got back the leadership of New Jericho quickly.

It should not have been a surprise that Markus himself showed up.

Another member of the Jericho Four being in tow also should not have been a surprise.

However, they were.

“What is going on here?”

“Step away from the police tape! This is a police investigation!” one of the officers on the scene said sharply as soon as Markus and Josh approached the police tape.

“And I'd like to know what’s going on,” Markus said, frowning slightly.

“I told you. It’s an investigation site. Do not cross the line!”

Josh raised his hands in a placating manner. "We won't. We just want to know what's going on."

Hank glanced over at Connor when he looked up at the commotion at the doorway. "You handling this or want me to? Or just let them sit out there, since it's not our job and they don't get special treatment?" His voice was low, so it wouldn't carry over to where Markus and Josh were.

Connor would have been lying if some small part of him, the part still angry over how Markus had shut him out of the database, didn't want to ignore them, but he shook his head. "No, I'll handle this, lieutenant."

Hank snorted. "Yeah, look at you going all stiff and formal. I can chase them off for you."

"Like you said, I'm going to have to face him eventually."

"Let me know if you need backup," Hank said, voice still sotto voce, and Connor nodded before walking the short distance over.

"Markus, Josh. I'm sorry, but this is part of a criminal investigation and we're gathering evidence. You'll have to stay behind the police line."

"I gathered it was part of an investigation," Markus said dryly. "But more information would be nice."

"I'm sorry. I'm not at liberty to discuss that," Connor said, his expression not changing.

Josh's eyes flicked past Connor, looking into the janitorial room. His eyes widened slightly looking at what he could see of the walls, and his LED cycled yellow as he processed it.

Connor stepped more firmly in between them and the room. "I'm sorry. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Markus' lips thinned. "Can you answer one thing for me?"

[YES]  
[NO]

"What is it?"

"Is this for the case you asked to use the database for?"

[YES]  
[NO]  
[STONEWALL]

"I can not comment on ongoing murder investigations."

Markus' eyes narrowed. "Ongoing _murder_ investigations...so this is that case."

"I can not comment on ongoing murder investigations," Connor repeated, slightly more forcefully, and Josh blinked.

“How did you find him if you didn’t use our database?” Markus asked sharply, and there was something terrible in his voice.

Connor raised his chin, and dropped the stonewalling as Markus' words hit where he was still stung. “I used _police work_. I asked the former police and security androids to alert me if they saw him. One of them did. Their notifications are considered ‘tips’ since they are no longer on the force, and I investigated. I didn’t _touch_ the New Jericho database,” Connor said, and couldn’t keep the anger out of his voice. 

Josh blinked.

“Even if I had wanted to use it, I _couldn’t_ , remember? You revoked my permission. I also didn’t have a warrant. Even if I had somehow used it without either access permission or a warrant, nothing I found would be admissible in court, meaning it would have been the same as useless. So I found. Another. Way,” he said, his words sharp and clipped, and buried the hurt and humiliation at not being trusted _deep_.

“I’m sorry. That was...you’re right,” Markus said, shaking his head and letting his shoulders slump.

The apology didn’t take away the sting. 

"What's going on, Connor?" Josh asked.

Connor shook his head. "I can't comment on an ongoing investigation. I'm sorry."

"Connor..." Josh began, clearly picking his words carefully. "You said 'murder.' Is this android a danger? Or are they in danger?" 

Connor hesitated slightly - while not inherently a danger to other androids, he had attacked Lillian and forced a restart. "He should be considered dangerous. It is imperative that we bring him in for questioning. He fled, and may still be somewhere in New Jericho. I'm going to send out an alert to the New Jericho security forces about him. You will still turn him over to me if he's found here, right?”

“Yes, of course,” Markus said, frowning slightly. “I _said_ we would.”

_[And I said I wouldn’t use a database without a warrant. You doubted me, but I’m not supposed to doubt you?]_

[CONFRONT?]  
[STAY SILENT?]  
[THANK?]

He ignored the angry, glitching [deviant] CONFRONT option. “Thank you. I’ll send a notification to the police and security androids who have been patrolling New Jericho that they have permission from you to apprehend him if they see him.”

Markus nodded. “Do that. Come see me after you finish up here, all right?”

“All right. Now, if you will excuse me,” Connor said. “I have work to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO GUESS WHOSE IPAD DIED?
> 
> My iPad is my main computer, since my laptop is old and slow and the battery dies like whoa after only an hour or so of usage. But my iPad Pro worked like a dream.
> 
> UNTIL IT DIDN'T. It died in such a spectacular way the Apple tech support people on twitter were like, "OK, yeah, that's hardware failure."
> 
> It's going in for repairs next week, the soonest I could get an appointment at the Apple Store near me, but who knows how long it will be gone for. This will slow down my NaNoWriMoing, I'm afraid, and is why nothing came out for a while, but with any luck, the laptop I pulled out of storage will chug away long enough to last until my iPad gets back in for repairs. ;______;


	19. A Suit Like This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I can’t say I’d say no to help cataloguing all of this. Because god damn,” Hank said, gesturing slightly with his hand at everything. 
> 
> As if to punctuate his point, a flash went off from the camera of one of the members of the forensics team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a replacement iPad! And worked a lot on this fic, only to discover I needed to make a new chapter before the one I was working on as a bridge! So here’s this very short chapter, and the next one should be much, much longer.

“So how’d that go,” Hank asked, one eyebrow raised as Connor returned.

[LIE]  
[TRUTH]  
[EQUIVOCATE]

“It could have gone worse.”

Hank gave him a sharp-eyed look. “Uh-huh,” he said, then paused for a moment before seeming to decide to let it go.

“Markus did ask me to come see him after I finished up here,” Connor added, feeling like Hank deserved at least some of the full truth. 

“You gonna go?”

Connor frowned slightly. “I have to.”

Hank shrugged. “No, you don’t. You don’t technically have to do anything.”

“I can’t just refuse to see him. He’s the leader of the androids,” Connor said, feeling as if his footing were suddenly uncertain; as if the ground beneath his feet were suddenly heaving up beneath him.

“Well, you don’t have to talk to him today. You can do it tomorrow.”

Connor shook his head. “You said it yourself, Hank. I can’t put it off forever.”

“You want me to come with you, then?”

Connor let himself smile faintly. “Thank you for the offer. But this is something I have to handle myself. But I'm not going right now. Markus said ‘when you’re finished up,’ and I’m not finished up here. And I won’t be until all of this evidence has been seen and sorted.”

Hank grinned. “Good. Make ‘em wait.”

Connor nodded. “My job comes first.”

“Uh-huh,” Hank said, the same slightly disbelieving way as before, but there was a still a hint of a smile around his lips and in this eyes as he did so. Then he shrugged. “I can’t say I’d say no to help cataloguing all of this. Because god damn,” Hank said, gesturing slightly with his hand at everything. 

As if to punctuate his point, a flash went off from the camera of one of the members of the forensics team. 

Connor did a quick scan for clues, but there was little to be gleaned in a scan - all of the real clues would be in analyzing the data more deeply, including looking through the downloaded files and sifting through Alexander’s belongings. 

“We’ve got some more clothes over here,” one of the forensics team members yelled, and Connor looked over to where she was, and scanned. “Where the hell did an android squatting get a suit like this?”

[Scanning…] 

[Clue: tailored worsted dark navy wool suit, measurements slightly off for an HR400 model build.]

[Cross-referencing video surveillance from outside of Laurence Uematsu’s apartment…clothing match: 95%]

“Lieutenant. Those clothes…I believe they’re the ones that were worn by the person who left Laurence Uematsu’s apartment after he was murdered. If they were Uematsu’s, Amy Sunderland might be able to identify them.”

The eyes of the woman in forensics, Kelly, who had found the suit went a little wide. “I’ll bag it for evidence.”

“Thanks. And good call on Amy,” Hank said, nodding. “We probably need to contact her anyway and let her know that former android of hers is on the run.”

“Amy…the woman whose name is all over…everything?” Kelly said, her eyes darting quickly around the room.

“Yes. “Connor frowned. “She might be in danger.”

Kelly nodded, and Hank let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, she’s _definitely_ in danger. She’s lucky this guy is wanted,” Hank said, and there was something disgusted sounding in his voice. “That means we can keep an eye on her. I’ll see about keeping her place under surveillance.” 

“If we’re lucky, he’ll head towards her sooner rather than later.”

Hank rolled his eyes. “Connor. When have we EVER been lucky? Don’t answer that,” he said, and Connor closed his mouth.


	20. Evidence #8996 2 42 9-3, File 2-15-2038-1023

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> File view count: 781

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup! Two chapters in one day! Enjoy!
> 
> These “Evidence” chapters are side chapters that you can skip if you wish - these are Alexander’s downloaded memories that have been entered into evidence. They aren’t necessary for the Fear Response story per se, and are more to fill in the background with Amy and Alexander. I had asked if people wanted them separate or embedded in the story itself, and everyone said to leave them in (everyone who originally replied, thank you!), so here it is. Any future Evidence chapters will be pretty clear from the comments.

**Case Number:** 8996 2 42 9  
**Date:** 7/7/2039  
**Reporting Officer:** RK800 #313 248 317 - 51 “Connor”  
**Evidence Container:** 02, 854-2881-2  
**Evidence Description:** Downloaded memory from Evidence #8996 2 42 9-3 (tablet). File creation date: 2/15/2038. File view count: 781

_“Waaaugh!”_

_The sound of Amy’s yell takes Alexander out of standby, and he rushes over to where the sound of her startled yell came from, the bathroom._

_The door is closed, and Alexander’s hand reaches up to knock on the door. “Amy? Are you all right?”_

_“Maybe?” she answers, and Alexander opens the door instead of waiting for her to open it._

_Amy has a towel wrapped around her, and she is still wet from the shower. She is placing all of her weight on her left foot, and her right is gingerly on the ground, on the ball of her foot. Alexander steps towards her, and she shoos him away with her hand. “I just stepped down wrong coming out of the shower. I’ll be fine in a moment.”_

_Alexander looks down at her right ankle. It is already swelling slightly. “No, you won’t be. I think you sprained your ankle.”_

_“What? No. I think I just stepped wrong. It’s not sprained!” she says._

_“It is,” Alexander corrects. “And a bad one.”_

_“How…I can’t even tell yet, how can you?” she says, frowning. “All I can tell is a bunch of ow,” she grumbles, and starts to take a hesitant step, to put weight on her ankle to test it. As soon as she does she lets out another surprised cry of pain, and Alexander moves towards her._

_“What are you—wait—Alexander! Put me down!” Amy yells as he lifts her off her feet. “Alexander!”_

_“You have sprained your ankle very badly,” Alexander says as he carries her into the living room. “You risk further damage to it if you put your weight on it.”_

_He settles her carefully, and Amy glares at him. “How do you know I sprained it? And don’t pick me up like that!”_

_“The soft tissue of your ankle is swelling. It’s swelling more than it does if you’ve twisted it.”_

_She frowns again, but this time, it’s more one of confusion._

_“How can you even tell that by just_ looking _at my ankle?”_

_Alexander tilts his head. “Traci units are designed to notice changes in human blood flow and soft tissue swelling,” he says, and Amy blinks for a moment before turning bright red._

_“Fucking hell,” she mutters, “Of course, designed to notice signs of human arousal, Jesus.” Then she shakes her head. “Wow, though. You can use_ that _kind of skill to tell my ankle is swollen and it’s a sprain. That’s pretty clever of you!”_

_Alexander brings over her bean bag chair. “You should rest and elevate your ankle. I’ll bring you some ice for it.”_

_“…I really did sprain it, huh,” Amy says, looking down at her ankle, which has become more swollen._

_“Yes.”_

_“Shit.”_

_“I’m sorry for disobeying your orders and picking you up,” Alexander says in a small voice as he arranges her ankle on the bean bag._

_Amy sighs and shakes her head. “No. You were probably right, huh. It was just...jarring. I really don’t like being picked up, but I shouldn’t have tried to put any weight on it. Just look at it; it’s puffing up like a pufferfish. Your gut instinct was right.”_

_“But I don’t have a gut.”_

_Amy laughs. “You know what I mean, you dork.”_

_Alexander scans her ankle and as he is standing back up, sends a message to her doctor and an image of the scan. He goes into the kitchen and prepares a bag of ice. He returns to the bathroom to get a towel, then goes back into the living room and lays the towel over Amy’s foot, then places the bag of ice on it._

_Then he blinks several times. “Amy, I’ve received information from your doctor’s office. I sent an image of your ankle to your doctor, and received confirmation that it is a sprain, and you should stay off of it for a few days, but you should come in for an MRI. You’ll need crutches.”_

_Amy heaves a sigh. “Really? I sprained my ankle that badly just walking out of the shower?!”_

_Alexander nods. “I can’t tell the full extent of the damage. Might I suggest upgrading my optical units? The ones I have are not designed for deeper scans of human physiology. You wouldn’t need an MRI if I did have those, since those scans would be accepted. You wouldn’t even need to go into the doctor’s office, since a medical scan from an android could be used for a diagnosis by a doctor, and for them to order any necessary painkillers.”_

_Amy makes a face. “I probably should, shouldn’t I? It’d save me money and time in the long run. Plus, I_ hate _going to the doctor.” She sighs. “Check my savings. If I have enough, order yourself an upgrade and schedule an appointment at the shop I got you at for the guy there to install them. I guess I can get by with my old tablet a little longer.”_

_“Thank you. For now, I’ve just ordered you a set of crutches, and will go pick them up shortly, as well as supplies to tape your ankle, and scheduled a doctor’s appointment for 2 pm, which will give me time to return with your crutches. For now, you should keep your ankle iced and elevated. I’ll bring you a change of clothes before I go. Do you need help changing?”_

_Amy chuckles, her cheeks pinking slightly, “Nah, I’m good. I can and have done that on my own with a sprained ankle. I’m not quite_ that _helpless yet!”_

_Alexander walks into her bedroom, and selects clothing for her that will be easy for her to put on and take off - underwear, a pair of loose, dark brown flannel pajama bottoms that could be worn outside without gathering too much attention, and a warm, fuzzy sweater._

_When he brings the clothes to her, her face lights up. “You brought me my favorite, ‘I hate everything and just wanna be comfy’ sweater!”_

_“I noticed that you change into it often when you come home if you seem to be having a difficult day. Today seemed to count.”_

_Her smile grows warmer. “Alexander, you’re_ amazing _. I swear, it’s like you know me better than I know myself. You knew what I want to wear because I’m unhappy and you knew my ankle was sprained even before I did, and got everything taken care of before I even had to ask. What on earth would I do without you?”_

__

__

_“Walk around on a sprained ankle?” he asks, and Amy laughs._


	21. Take the Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank shut the door to the forensics van. “Guess I’ll head back to the station. You coming, or going to see Markus?”
> 
> [TAKE THE OUT]  
> [DECLINE]

The last place Connor wanted to go to was the church. It had only been a day since he had last been there last, but a lot had happened in that single day. He’d hoped to put this off for a little longer, until he was less _[DEVIANT]_ angry (?) hurt (?) about Markus’ decision to cut him off from the Jericho database access and his distrust of Connor’s doing his job without accessing the database, but, as Hank had pointed out, luck was rarely on their side.

_[“You don’t have to talk to him today. You can do it tomorrow.”_  
_“You said it yourself, Hank. I can’t put it off forever.”_  
_Hank shrugged. “You want me to come with you, then?”_  
_Connor shook his head. “Thank you for the offer. But this is something I have to handle myself.”]_

“I’ll finish cataloguing all this shit at the station,” Hank said as he and Connor helped load the last boxes of evidence into the forensics van. “But do me a favor, all right? Go check in on Lillian when you get a chance.”

Connor nodded. “I will, Lieutenant.”

“She’ll need to come by the station to give us a statement. And we could technically charge him with assault since he attacked her and knocked her out.”

Connor frowned slightly. “Wouldn’t he argue self defence?”

Hank shrugged. “He could try. But she was private security and hadn’t touched him. It’d be a hard sell. And that might be easier that trying to get Amy Sunderland to press charges. She’s already in enough danger. We don’t want to push him over the edge with her. Her pressing charges might do it.”

“Good point.”

Hank shut the door to the van. “Guess I’ll head back to the station. You coming, or going to see Markus?”

_[TAKE THE OUT]_  
_[DECLINE]_

__

__

“I’ll go see Markus. I’m already here.”

“All right. And my door’s open if you need a place to crash after.”

“Thank you, Hank,” Connor said, blinking at the _[DEVIANCY]_ feeling of warmth that he felt at Hank’s words. “I’ll arrange to have android patrols of the area increased, since many of the androids here wouldn’t do well with increased human presence.”

Hank sighed. “Yeah. Things are volatile enough without us adding gasoline to it. We ought to have cops here, but that’s not gonna go over well.”

Connor’s LED cycled through a yellow ring, then, “I’ll have former police androids only here. They’ll know all the proper protocol and will follow it. Give me a moment to arrange it,” he said, and closed his eyes after Hank nodded.

The entire area was fully covered by wifi, but most of the androids could only access other androids that were close by, through updated Bluetooth protocols. But the police androids had to be wired to get information as it came in from far away, and had systems in place similar to MAS that allowed them to receive alert information, similar to the way that Connor had been able to connect to CyberLife no matter where he was. He had the same protocols, and used it to arrange new orders and new patrols, as well as ask former police androids to keep watch of the area. 

He opened his eyes once he received confirmation from several of the androids he asked to patrol, and they arranged times. “A pair of former police androids will be here shortly, and patrols of the area have been increased. I’ll wait here until they arrive.”

Hank stared at him. “You did all that in, what, less that two minutes? Seriously?”

Connor nodded. 

“It’s a good thing you guys decided not to go to war, because we’d’ve had our asses handed to us,” Hank muttered, shaking his head. 

Connor wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

Hank heaved a sigh. “OK, that paperwork won’t file itself. We’ll both go do shit we don’t wanna. See you tomorrow.”

“Good-bye, Lieutenant.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t let Markus get to you,” he said. “Now where the fuck did I park?” Hank muttered, and headed back towards where he had left his car.

Connor watched him and waited for two former police androids who had volunteered to come - the PC200 he had spoken to the first day after he had returned to work, and another PC200 who, like Lillian, had been in the recycling centers the night Connor freed the androids from the CyberLife Tower, arrived.

When they arrived, Connor thanked them, and headed into the church at the heart of New Jericho.


	22. We’re Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Markus nodded. “I understand. Thank you for what you have told us. If you catch him, you’ll make sure he’s treated well, right?”
> 
>  
> 
> _[”us”?]_  
>  _[“if”?]_

Eyes were on Connor as soon as he entered the church. He ignored the eyes on him and instead looked around for Markus. Markus wasn’t in the main area, so he headed into the back, where the church office rooms were, towards the one that Markus had staked out long ago as his own.

He stood outside the door for a moment, and attempted to access the New Jericho database.

[ACCESS DENIED]

He knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Markus said from inside, and Connor did as bade.

“Connor. Thank you for coming by,” he said, giving Connor a faint smile as he put down a tablet. “It took you a while at that crime scene?” he asked, and Connor felt stung, as if Markus’ words were accusatory.

“There was a lot of evidence,” Connor said simply.

Markus leaned against his desk. “How bad is this going to be, Connor?” he asked, his voice serious. “I know, I know, there’s a lot you can’t tell me, and I’m not asking for anything that would put you into conflict. But is there _anything_ you can tell me so I can prepare for whatever might be coming?”

Markus’ voice was sincere. And no matter what Connor’s feelings towards Markus were, he knew there were things bigger than both of them.

“I can’t tell you much more than what has been on the news. What have you seen?”

Markus frowned slightly. “After Simon mentioned it, and it looked like an android was involved, I read through the stories in the news. A human man was killed in his own home? And he wasn’t the original owner of the android? The news didn’t say anything about an android being involved.”

“We’re keeping that out of the press until we actually arrest him. There’s no reason to announce a suspect until we’ve caught him. That’s pretty standard.”

“And if there was any hint of android involvement announced, the humans wouldn’t take it well,” Markus said slowly. 

“No, they probably wouldn’t.”

“You’re sure this android did it?”

Connor nodded. “The evidence is pointing that way. I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you any more details.”

Markus nodded. “I understand. Thank you for what you have told us. If you catch him, you’ll make sure he’s treated well, right?”

 _[”us”?]_  
_[“if”?]_

“I’ll see that he’s treated the same as any other suspect when he’s brought in,” Connor said carefully. “I can’t be seen showing favoritism. But I’ll make sure he’s safe.”

“Well, that’s the best you can do, I suppose.” 

“That's the best anyone could,” Connor said, his voice slightly sharp. ”But…" Connor's voice softened and trailed off, and he paused for a moment before he opened his mouth to speak again. “Markus,” he finally said slowly. “You know this is going to be bad, right? This will be the first murder by an android that was done with premeditation. It wasn’t self-defense, like all the other murders have been. When this comes out...I think Hank was right when he said it was going to be a media circus. ‘Love triangle, obsession, kidnapping, torture, murder; the press’ll eat it up with a spoon,’ he said.” 

Markus sighed. “There was always going to be a first. But is it really that bad? And like I said, I know, you can’t tell me all of the details,” he said, holding up his hand, “And I’m not asking for them. But...”

“It’s worse,” Connor said flatly, thinking back to Amy huddled in her bean bag chair, a knee brace laid by her feet, shoulder in a sling, and trace of medical tape on her wrist, and Laurence Uematsu, bled out from hundreds of cuts. 

It had taken him hours to die. 

“They’ll paint him as a monster, and I can’t say they’d be wrong,” he finished, deciding sincerity was in order. “It’s not just the murder. He’s done other things out of what appears to be obsession with his former owner, and even if he were human, what he did would be...upsetting.”

Markus closed his eyes. “All right.” He opened his eyes again, still looking troubled, but more resolute. “I’ll worry about the fallout. It was only a matter of time before something happened that could risk how the humans see us. But this just reinforces what we’ve been pushing for all along: we’re just as sentient and capable of thoughts and feelings as humans. And that means we can screw it up just as badly as they do when we start down the wrong path. We are alive, and we are sentient, and that means we can make horrible, terrible mistakes and hurt the ones we love the most. And when we do, we have to be brought to justice, same as humans, and punished the same.

“If this comes to trial, that message will be just as important and will mean more for our people in the long run. He _has_ to get a fair trial and a fair punishment.”

Connor felt a sinking feeling in his stomach, as if someone had opened his abdominal cavity and filled all the extra space with rocks. The humans would make an example out of Alexander, and if there was even a whiff of anti-android sentiment, or that a human wouldn’t have been punished the exact same way, the androids would be out in the streets. But any whiff in the opposite direction, that the judge had been lenient to appease the androids and avoid fallout, then the _humans_ would be the ones rioting.

Markus was right, it was something that was bound to happen, sooner rather than later, but this case...there was nothing _good_ about it. There was no defending any of what Alexander had done. But also no denying that he might be _completely insane_ …or worse, completely _sane_. But whichever he was, he had been driven that way because of how the humans had treated him. But he had taken it out on humans who’d had nothing to do with any of it.

There was _nothing_ good about any of it.

“Is there anything else?” Markus asked, looking almost like he wanted to ask Connor a completely different question.

 _[“How did you find him if you didn’t use our database?”]_  
_[“I said I would.”]_

“No,” Connor said. “That’s everything on my mind.”

Markus paused, and then: “Are we good? I know you were angry about me pulling your access to the New Jericho databases, and I get why, but you know it wasn’t personal, right? It wasn’t _anything_ against you. And I shouldn’t have doubted you today. You didn’t deserve that, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so suspicious. You’re one of us, after all,” he said, putting a hand on Connor’s shoulder, and looking him straight in the eyes.

_[us]_

_[if]_

Connor attempted once more to access the New Jericho database.

[ACCESS DENIED]

“I know,” Connor said. “We’re good,” he finished with a lie, and smiled his “sincere” smile. Markus squeezed his shoulder, dropped his hand, and turned back to pick up a tablet and return to whatever he had been doing before Connor came in, and the smile dropped off Connor’s face the second he no longer had to keep it up.


	23. Evidence #8996 2 42 9-3, File 2-3-2038-1527

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> File view count: 702

**Case Number:** 8996 2 42 9  
**Date:** 7/7/2039  
**Reporting Officer:** RK800 #313 248 317 - 51 “Connor”  
**Evidence Container:** 02, 854-2881-2  
**Description:** Downloaded memory from evidence #8996 2 42 9-3 (tablet). File creation date: 02/03/2038. File view count: 702

_Amy’s face is right next to his, and there is a concerned look on it._

_“Alexander? Alexander, are you all right?” she asks, and Alexander looks down to see her hand on his shoulder._

_He is sitting on the ground, and looks down. He lifts his hands, and there is grit and dirt from the street on it, and damp from snow. He looks behind him, and he is backed against a lamp post._

_Alexander blinks several times, then looks around again before looking at Amy. She’s sitting on the ground besides him, looking straight at him, and seeming to ignore the damp of the snow and sleet-wet pavement and the stares of everyone around them. She is looking only at Alexander, and her hand is still on his shoulder. Her nose and cheeks are ruddy from the cold._

_“What happened?” Alexander says slowly, and wraps his arms around his drawn-up knees. “I don’t…” he says, then stops, and stares at her hand._

_“Well, I was hopin’ you could tell me,” Amy says, taking her hand away, and her voice is gentle. Her accent is also slightly stronger. “What d’ya remember happenin’ last?”_

_“I…I bent down to tie my shoelace,” Alexander says slowly, his eyelashes fluttering quickly._

_“Yeah,” Amy says. “An’ I reached down to get some fluff or something that had landed in your hair, an’ you just…I don’t quite know. Ya froze up an’ started breathin’ fast, then backed up 'til you were against the lamp here an’ just sat there breathin’ fast an’ wide-eyed. An’ your LED was red the whole time. I…OK, I don’t know much about y’all androids, as Jas_ loves _to remind me, but even_ I _know enough to know red ain’t a good sign,” she says, still looking concerned._

_“Oh,” is all Alexander says at first. Then, “No, it’s probably not.”_

_“What happened? I mean…that looked like a panic attack. Do androids even get panic attacks? Are you damaged? I know y'all breathe so it doesn't make humans uncomfortable, but I don't know why you were breathing so fast like that. Do you need, I dunno, repairs or something? Talk to me, Alexander.”_

_“Why are you sitting on the ground?” Alexander asks instead._

_She gave him a sad smile. “Because it looked like you were havin’ a panic attack an’ needed help. I couldn’t do anything to pull you outta whatever was making you go all red ring of panic like that, but I figured I could be next to you when whatever was goin’ on stopped enough for you to pull out of it.”_

_Her voice is still soft and gentle, and her accent is not quite as strong as it had been. “I don’t know what to do for androids flipping out, but I’ve seen panic attacks, so…” Her voice trails off, and she gets a self-depreciating smile on her face. “I’m probably being silly, but whatever. What was that?”_

_“It…I don’t...” he begins, then looks around. “People are staring at you.”_

_She shrugs. “Yeah, I guess it ain’t every day you see someone sitting on the sidewalk next to an android, but so what if they are? It’s not like I’m ever gonna see any of them again. Making sure you’re OK is a bit more important to me than what folks I don’t know from Adam think.”_

_“Oh,” he says again, and looks down at his knees. “We should get up.”_

_Alexander stands, and Amy looks around for a moment, planning how to get herself up. She puts her right hand down on the ground for leverage, and begins to get up, then winces and stops. She rubs her right elbow briefly, before taking a deep breath and looking ready to try again._

_Alexander holds his hand out to her. “Your elbow is overextending. Please be careful. You…you shouldn’t’ve sat down on the ground like that. It’s not easy for you to get up.”_

_She chuckles. “Yeah, well. If I didn't do something because it was difficult because my body is stupid, I'd never get to actually do anything. And thanks,” she says, taking his hand with her right hand and lets him start to pull her to her feet. She lets out a small gasp and a wince, and Alexander reaches over with his left hand to brace her right elbow to prevent it from overextending as he helps her up. “Thanks for that, too,” she says, then glares at her elbow. “Stupid elbow.”_

_He immediately lets go of her elbow and hand. “I’m sorry. I…I didn’t mean to cause you further injury.”_

_She frowns at him slightly as she begins rubbing her elbow. “Yeah, not your fault. I’m the idiot who gave you my right hand. Hell, Alexander, a stiff breeze’ll knock some joint outta place some days. And this isn’t an injury; it’s a mild annoyance. Don’t worry about it. And, uh, don’t think I didn’t notice you didn’t exactly answer my question about what happened.”_

_Alexander’s breath begins to speed up._

_Her faint frown deepens, and her eyes lock on his LED._

_“I…it was…I…I don’t…I don’t know how...I don’t...I don’t want to...I don’t...” he begins, his eyes darting around and not looking at Amy. He looks down at his chest, and it is heaving from how fast he's breathing._

_Amy puts her hand on his arm and stops him. “Ok, y’know what? Never mind. Y’ain’t gotta tell me nothing specific. Just take a nice, slow breath, then let me if you need to go into the shop. Is this an error or hardware problem? Is it something I can fix or get fixed?”_

_His takes a deep breath as instructed, then his eyes flutter quickly. Then: “My diagnostics say I am fine. Running a full diagnostic will take more time, however.”_

_He still is not looking at her and focuses on brushing some of the grime of the city streets off of his clothing, then he focuses on Amy’s clothing, looking at it and not her, and begins brushing the dirt off of her coat and leggings._

_She moves as if to stop him, then pulls her hand back instead and lets him brush the dirt off of her. “Then let’s just go home,” she says. “I got just about everything I needed, and anything I didn’t get today, I can get another day.”_

__

__

_“But—,” Alexander begins, and now looks at her face._

_“Plus, I probably shouldn’t do too much walking. Winter does a number on me,” she says with a wry smile. But her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and the expression in them indicates concern._

_She keeps glancing at his LED._

_“So…let’s just head on home. We got a lot done today and besides, it's gettin’ cold,” she says, and sniffles as if illustrating her point. “You can run your full diagnostics just to be on the safe side, and I can wrap myself up inside a nice, warm blanket with a cup of hot chocolate.”_

_“If you’re sure,” Alexander says, looking down at the ground._

_“I am,” she says. “Let’s go catch the bus. And… you sit with me, since my elbow is actin' up and as you so astutely pointed out, gettin' up is hard. I might need your help. If anyone gives us a hard time, well, you are technically my service android, so you’re supposed to stay with me and they can shove it,” she says lightly, but the look of concern is still in her eyes when Alexander looks up at her._

_“Let’s go home,” she says again, and Alexander nods._


	24. Something That Will Have to Wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Markus had been willing to face death and die fighting. All Connor had done was betray the ones he had served.
> 
> It wasn’t the same thing.
> 
> It wasn’t the same thing at _all_.

After he left Markus’ office, Connor walked out of the church as quickly as he could without garnering attention, keeping his face neutral.

He reached into his pocket for his work phone.

“Call Hank Anderson,” he said once he had it in hand, out of his pocket.

“Hank speaking, whaddaya want?” Hank said when he picked up the phone.

“This is Connor. I’ve finished speaking with Markus.”

“How'd that go?”

_[Truth]_  
_[Lie]_  
_[Obfuscate]_

“As well as could be expected.”

“That well, huh.”

“That well.”

“You want me to swing back around and pick you up? Wouldn’t take too long, and logging the rest of the evidence can wait. Besides, there’s something we gotta do.”

“What’s that? And yes, if you wouldn’t mind picking me up, I can help with going through the video files. The sooner we log them, the better.”

“Agreed. And the thing we need to do is have a talk with Amy Sunderland. That android’s got nowhere to go now. He might go after her. I want to arrange a stakeout of her place, but we need to at least warn the poor girl.”

“So you want to go by her place?”

“Yeah. I just finished talking to Fowler, and he agrees a stakeout is a good idea, but was saying we don’t have any idea how long we might be waiting for him to show up. Amy knows that android better than anyone else, so she might have some ideas what he might do.”

“He’s careful,” Connor said. “But many androids don’t handle emotions well. He might do something reckless.”

“Yeah, let’s hope not. But that’s all the more reason to give that girl a heads up. He’s already killed one person. I’d rather not have her be next in line.”

Connor heard the sounds of Hank moving around, and then the faint jangle of keys.

“Alright. I’m heading out now. Where you want me to pick you up?”

Connor paused and extrapolated a meeting point based on his walking speed vs how long it would most likely take Hank to leave the station, and then driving speed, then told Hank. 

“Cool. See you soon,” he said, and hung up.

Connor slipped his phone back into his pocket, and quietly walked to where he and Hank were supposed to me. As he walked, androids looked up at him, and many smiled and waved. He waved back.

Their faces lit up when he did.

He didn’t fully understand the way some of them responded to and looked at him. It was the same way many of the androids from Old Jericho, the few handful of survivors, looked at Markus. 

He hadn’t done anything to deserve that adulation from afar. Before he decided to deviate, he had been on the opposite side, and would have coldly hunted down the very androids who seemed to look up to him now. He had fought against the revolution. It wasn’t until he was face to face wth Markus that all the small uncertainties had finally come to a breaking point.

He’d made a choice, but it would have been just as easy to make the opposite one, to have stayed CyberLife’s sniffer dog, and who knows what would have happened then? None of the androids from CyberLife Tower would have awakened. More of the androids in the recycling centers would have been shut down. And as for the revolution…if they CyberLife Tower androids hadn’t arrived, who knows?

Markus had been willing to face death and die fighting. All Connor had done was betray the ones he had served.

It wasn’t the same thing.

But the androids…the CyberLife Tower androids, and many of the ones who had been freed from the centers, they looked at him like it _was_.

But he knew it wasn’t. It wasn’t the same at all.

But they looked at him like it was.

And he had no idea what exactly to do with _that_.

He got to the corner he had told Hank to meet him at just as Hank pulled up.

Hank leaned over and opened the door. “Ready?”

Connor nodded and got into the car, and buckled his seatbelt. “Ready.”

“Then let’s go,” Hank said, giving him a long, strange look, and Connor decided that, like trying to figure out the looks of the androids at when he had waved back, was something that would have to wait.


	25. In the Eye of a Hurricane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy looked like someone had just struck her in the stomach, and Connor decided to say something. 
> 
> Hank may have known humans, but _Connor_ knew deviant androids.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so, all the chapters with Amy and Alexander will have titles that come from Hamilton, because I’m a screaming fangirl. XD

The sun was beginning to set as they pulled into the parking lot of Amy’s apartment building.

Hank turned the car off, but hesitated before he pulled the keys out.

Connor looked at him quizzically.

“Let me handle this one, Connor,” he finally said, and Conner frowned slightly. 

“I know how to—” he began, and Hank shook his head.

“You’re a good kid, Connor. But I’ve seen a lot more of these kinds of cases and know better how people react to news like this. You’ll be giving enough bad news soon enough. I’ll take this one.”

Hank stared straight ahead as he spoke, and he looked tired.

“All right,” Connor agreed. “I’ll follow your lead on this.”

“Thanks,” Hank said, heaving a sigh. “God, I really hope we catch this guy before he kills that girl,” he muttered, and pulled the keys out of the ignition.

“I don’t know if he will,” Connor said as he opened his door.

“I’ve seen a lot of these kind of cases, Connor. It escalates. It always escalates.”

“You’ve seen these cases with _humans_ ,” Connor pointed out. “But androids are…different. We don't reason in the exact same ways as you do.”

“He already tortured her boyfriend to death. And repeatedly injured her. And technically kidnapped her.”

“But he did all of it because he wanted to be close to her and keep her close when he thought she was slipping away from him. Killing her…it would be the opposite of what he wants. From what Amy Sunderland said, he never injured her because he was angry at her or to punish her. It was to keep her dependent on him.”

“People like him usually tend to decide that if they can’t have the person they want, no one can. That’s why they kill them.”

“But that wouldn’t get him what he wants.”

Hank sighed. “All right. I’ll leave the android psychology to you and follow you on figuring that guy out. But I’ll handle the human side with Amy Sunderland.”

Connor nodded.

“Let’s get this over with,” Hank said heavily, then got out of the car. 

Connor followed.

They entered the apartment complex and headed up to Amy’s apartment.

“She really needs to move to a place where anyone coming in needs to be buzzed in,” Hank muttered under his breath.

“We should mention that to her.”

“Yeah. ‘Hey, look, we know everything is shit, but still, pack up all your things and move somewhere new! It’s a total snap’,” he said in a falsely cheerful tone of voice before his face settled back into a grumpy frown. 

“It’s better than him walking in.”

Hank got that tired look again, and the fingers of his hand twitched, like they were wrapping about the neck of a bottle. “Yeah.”

They walked in silence to Amy’s door and rang the doorbell, and waited in silence until the door opened.

“Yeah, it ain’t never good when the cops come over to see you,” Amy Sunderland said when saw them.

Hank faltered slightly, then sighed. “Well, I wish you weren’t right, but you are.”

Amy gave him a faltering smile. “Come in. I think I probably need to be sittin’ down for whatever this is.” She moved away from the door and gestured for them to come in. “Sorry, I was making myself some dinner. Trying to, at any rate. Please, have a seat.”

“Sorry to interrupt your dinner,” Hank said apologetically as he sat down.

She gave them a lopsided grin. “Naw. I was just in the middle of making it, and it’s not anything special. Just a pizza, since I can eat that easy with one hand,” she said, tilting her chin over towards her left shoulder. Her left arm was still in a sling.

“I guess I should at least be thankful Alexander went for my left arm and not the right. I’d be screwed if he’d popped the right one,” she said, and there was a touch of resignation in her voice.

“Yeah, no,” Hank said sharply. “Don’t even start that kind of thinking, not even as a joke.”

Amy looked surprised, then hunched in a little bit. “I…yeah. I know. But…”

“No ‘buts,’ either. He shouldn’t have laid a hand on you to begin with. He knew exactly what he was doing.” 

She sighed. “I know. And I’ll try,” she said, her voice small. “But…what’d y’all come down here for?” She asked as she sat down carefully on her couch, mindful of her shoulder.

From her beanbag chair, her cat, Angelica, looked up and meowed. She jumped up and beelined straight for Connor, and rubbed herself against his legs.

“That cat really does like androids, huh,” Hank said with a grin, then the smile fell off. “Ms. Sunderland, we found where Alexander has been staying. But unfortunately, he escaped.”

“How?”

“He knocked out one of the security androids in Android Town who had spotted him and reported his location. He was able to get away before we could arrive on scene.”

“So why are y’all here?” Amy asked slowly.

“Because we have no idea where he’s bolted to,” Hank said. “He knows now he won’t be able to hide out in Android Town like he had been. He know as the police are after him. That might make him desperate.”

“And desperate people do stupid things,” Amy said, blowing out a long huff of air. 

“Yeah. They do. And…we know he was obsessed with you.”

“Well, yeah,” Amy said, somewhat incredulously. “Tell me something that’s new.”

“No,” Hank said. “I don’t think you maybe realize just how obsessed he is. We saw where he was living. He…” Hank paused, searching for words. “He had covered every wall in pictures of you. And where he didn’t have room for pictures, he scribbled your name.”

Amy looked like someone had just struck her in the stomach, and Connor decided to say something. Hank may have known this kind of situation and how people reacted, but _Connor_ knew deviant androids.

“Androids who’ve gone deviant have a tendency towards obsessive-compulsive behavior,” he said. “This is the first time I’ve seen it directed towards a human before, but some of the hallmarks are the same.”

“What…what do they usually direct it at?”

 _[rA9]_  
_[BROKEN PROGRAMMING CODE]_  
_[LIE]_

“A fragment of broken code interpreted religiously,” he said, remembering how his programming checking for deviancy had sometimes displayed the characters of r, A, and 9 when it found errors. “They write characters from that code on walls, and speak of it like a messiah figure.”

“So…what, he sees me as a messiah?” Amy asked, frowning as she tried to process it.

“No,” Connor said. “He sees you as something else.”

“‘Somethin’ else,’” she said, her accent suddenly getting a touch stronger. “What does…what exactly does _that_ mean?”

“It means that he’s fixated on you. And he won’t let it go. He won’t let _you_ go. He can’t.”

_[Clue: Slight widening of the eyes, with the whites showing around the irises._

_Clue: Increased shallow breathing._

_Clue: Increased heart rate._  
_Clue: Loss of facial color due to constriction of capillaries, and a resulting vasodilation of central blood vessels to muscles._  
_Clue: Shaking hands.  
_

_Analysis: Amy Sunderland was afraid.]_

“He—” Amy began, and she wrapped her right arm around her left one, and clutched at the sling, as if for some kind of support.

“Listen. Is there a…a friend or someone you could stay with? Or could stay with you?” Hank asked, and he put his hand on her right shoulder. “You, uh, you maybe shouldn’t stay by yourself.”

Amy frowned, and rubbed her arm as if struck by a sudden chill. “Maybe…maybe Jas. My friend, Jasmine. Jasmine Miller. She knows Alexander and what he looks like, and she knows what he did, so maybe…” She let out a bitter laugh. “Jas was the first person Alexander tried to cut me off from. I think she started to see through him, an' he decided she had to go. I don’t even know if she’ll…instead of frettin’ about it, let me just call her,” she finally ended with. She picked up her cell phone, and took a deep breath. “OK,” she said, and quickly dialed a number.

She held her breath as she held the phone by her ear. “Jas…Jasmine? Um. Hey.” There was a long silence. “Yeah. I know. I…I have a favor to ask you,” she said, and Hank gestured for the phone. “Hold on a moment, yeah.” She looked quizzically at Hank. 

“Let me speak with your friend,” Hank said.

“Uh…sure, ok,” Amy said, looking confused. “Jasmine, I’m gonna pass the phone over. Just…yeah,” she said, and then handed Hank the phone.

Hank paced as he spoke, and Connor sat down next to Amy. She gave him a faint smile, but her face was still pale.

Angelica immediately jumped into his lap and curled up.

“Good evening, miss. Jasmine, was it? Jasmine Miller? Hi. My name is Hank Anderson, and I’m with the Detroit PD. No, she’s fine. For, now, at least. And it’s Lieutenant Anderson. Right. You know about Ms. Sunderland’s android Alexander, correct? Well, we think Amy might be in danger from him. I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to really say much about specifics, but I can tell you that we think he’s stalking her. Yes. We want her to stay with someone or for someone to stay with her for a little while, if possible. Right. All right, thank you. I’ll pass you back over to her,” he finished, and brought the phone over to Amy.

She took it, and put it to her ear. “Yeah…yeah, Jas, they do. They’re trying to find him. And…yeah,” she said, and her eyes started tearing up. “I’m so sorry for not realizing what he was doing…you were right, you tried to warn me that…I mean…yeah, OK,” she said. “I’ll see you soon,” she finished, and pulled the phone away from her ear before ending the call. She wiped her eyes. “Jas is on her way over. We’ll figure out if I’m gonna stay with her or if she’ll stay with me or what when she gets here. Thank you.”

“We’ll wait here until she gets here,” Hank said, and Connor blinked, then nodded.

Amy licked her lip nervously. “Thank you.”

“Listen. I know this is your home, but it’s really not very secure. You might want to think about moving into a place where no one can just walk in.”

She let out a bitter laugh. “I’ll get right on that when the money fairy comes.”

“If you can somehow manage it, you should,” Hank repeated.

Amy swallowed. “All right.”

“If there is anything you could tell us about Alexander, it would be greatly appreciated,” Connor said. “Every little bit of information will help me with my profile of him.”

“I’ll tell you everything I can,” she said, as Angelica purred in Connor’s lap.

—

About forty minutes later, the doorbell rang. Hank smirked over at Connor, who still had Angelica in his lap, only now, the cat was curled up asleep. “That cat loves you. I’ll go with Ms. Sunderland.”

Amy gave a little laugh. “She loves androids.”

Hank offered her a hand, and she used it to pull herself out her feet. When Amy got off the couch, Angelica woke up, yawned, and then batted at Connor’s hand until he began to scratch her.

The apartment was small enough that Connor could see the door open, and how the first thing the short woman standing there did when it opened did was give Amy a hug.

Amy hugged her back.

When the hug finished, Hank held up his badge. “Lieutenant Hank Anderson,” he said, and then shook the woman’s hand after he put the badge away.

“Jasmine Miller,” she said, before brushing her hair out of her face. “Now, I need you to tell me everything that’s going on,” she said, putting her hands on her hips.

“Can we _please_ be civilized and do this _not_ in the hallway?” Amy said, and Jasmine snorted.

“You know I’m a heathen. And what the shit happened to your arm?” Jasmine asked as they headed into the living room.

“My shoulder. And I dislocated it,” Amy said, her eyes downcast.

_[Why did she cover for Alexander?]_

“You and your fragile _everything_ ,” Jasmine said. Her tone was sharp but friendly, but there was an undertone to it, a touch of wariness around Amy.

_[“And he’d decided to start cutting me off from everyone. I’m still cleaning up the mess and the fallout.”]_

Jasmine stopped short when she saw Connor sitting on the couch with Angelica purring in his lap.

“A damn android? Seriously?”

“He’s—” Amy began, and Jasmine rolled her eyes.

“I know who he is. His face was plastered all over the news. He's the one that brought the cavalry of renegade bots in that forced the president to give in to the deviants. The shit is Connor the Revolutionary Android doing here?”

“My job,” Connor said, feeling the need to defend himself.

“And what exactly _is_ your job?” she said accusingly.

“I am…” Connor began, but then didn’t quite know how to respond.

“A police detective and my damn partner,” Hank said sharply. “And if you want to catch an android, you need an android. You won’t find anyone better than him at that.”

_[“I know you. You’re Connor. The famous deviant hunter,” Markus said, a smile closer to a smirk on his face.]_

Jasmine let out a snort and flopped down on Amy’s beanbag chair. “If his buddy Markus shows up, I’m outta here. Amy, once they’re gone, we’re talking. But now, they need to tell me what the shit exactly is going on.”

“It’s about Alexander,” Amy began.

“I know, and you’re not the cop and Viva la Revolution over here. I asked _them_.”

Amy rolled her eyes. “Same as always, Jasmine.”

“You fucking know it. And did Alexander kill Lore?” Jasmine said, switching from Amy to Hank.

Hank crossed his arms and looked at Connor, pointedly not saying anything. He gestured towards Jasmine with his chin, but didn’t say a word.

Connor finally spoke. “We suspect he did. We also think he’s stalking Ms. Sunderland. He’s obsessed with her. He _will_ try to make contact with her.” 

“I KNEW that fucking android wasn’t normal,” Jasmine said, balling her fists. “You never saw how he looked at her. It wasn’t _normal_. And Amy never saw it because she thought that _was_ normal because it was what he always did, and she’d never had an android before. 

“He watched her all the time. Constantly. She always said he was just monitoring her to make she she didn’t hurt herself, and yeah, he caught her so many times before she got hurt. Or at least, he _said_ it was before she got hurt. Who even knows if it wasn’t some sick way to touch her or to make her think she needed him? Fucker,” she spat out, and Amy looked down at her feet, wrapping her good arm around herself again. “I should have known Amy wouldn’t even have texted me the way she did. But that little shit was _good_.” She looked at Hank. “Lore - Laurence - he was a good guy. He didn’t deserve what happened to him. And Amy doesn’t deserve any of this. So if you find that plastic piece of shit? Fucking turn him into _scrap_ ,” she snarled, and the look she gave Connor was one of pure hate.

Connor paused, then spoke. “You must know…you may be in danger yourself. He already killed Laurence Uematsu.”

“You’re warning _me_ and not Amy?” Jasmine said, sounding incredulous.

“Because I doubt he would try to kill her. But he might attack anyone he suspected of getting in his way of getting to her.”

“Yeah, he can fucking try,” Jasmine snarled. “Heads up, I have a permit for this,” she said, and pulled a handgun out of her purse.

“It takes a lot of bullets to stop an android,” Connor said slowly.

Jasmine walked over to where he was sitting and stood over him. “No, it doesn’t. Just takes one _here_ ,” she said, poking hard at his forehead. “Central CPU. Or _here_ , thirium pump” she said, poking him right over his thirium pump, “or _here_ ,” she said, stabbing at his thirium pump regulator, “the thirium pump regulator,” she snarled.

As soon as she touched where his thirium pump regulator was, Connor felt a jolt of _[DEVIANT]_ panic and _fear_.

_[“Hank… Hank, I need help…”]_

“Jackpot,” Jasmine said, as Connor’s LED cycled RED RED RED.


	26. Evidence #8996 2 42 9-3, PDFs and Ebooks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> List of e-books and PDF files, by ascending access order date, saved to evidence #8996 2 42 9-3 (tablet).

**Case Number:** 8996 2 42 9  
**Date:** 7/7/2039  
**Reporting Officer:** RK800 #313 248 317 - 51 “Connor”  
**Evidence Container:** 02, 854-2881-2  
**Description:** List of ebooks and PDF files saved to evidence #8996 2 42 9-3 (tablet)  


_List of e-books and PDF files saved to evidence #8996 2 42 9-3 (tablet), by ascending access order date_ :

Introduction to Psychology, 14th Edition  
Psychology: Themes and Variations, 15th Edition  
Psychology: The Science of Behavior, 9th Edition  
Comprehensive Textbook of Psychiatry, 12th Edition  
How the Mind Works  
Personality Psychology: Domains of Knowledge about Human Nature  
Boundaries and Relationships: Knowing, Protecting and Enjoying the Self  
Boundaries: Where You End and I Begin  
Conquering Shame and Codependency: 8 Steps to Freeing the True You  
Handbook of Interpersonal Communication  
Understanding the Self  
Falling in Love: Why We Choose the Lovers We Chose  
The Handbook of Closeness and Intimacy  
Love and the Expansion of Self: Understanding Attraction and Satisfaction  
Reward, Motivation, and Emotion Systems Associated with Early-Stage Intense Romantic Love  
Evidence for Heightened Sexual Attraction Under Conditions of High Anxiety  
The Neurobiology of Love  
Human Behavior and Evolutionary Psychology  
Human Mate Poaching: Tactics and Temptations for Infiltrating Existing Relationships  
Hacking the Mind  
The Psychology Behind Love  
Mind Hacking and Free Will  
Who’s Pulling Your Strings  
30 Covert Emotional Manipulation Tactics: How Manipulators Take Control In Personal Relationships  
Learned Helplessness: A Theory for the Age of Personal Control  
Brainwashing: The Science of Thought Control  
The Gaslight Effect: How to Spot and Survive the Hidden Manipulation Others Use to Control Your Life  
Tactics of Manipulation  
Understanding Gaslighting and Psychological Manipulation  
Traumatic Entrapment, Appeasement and Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder: Evolutionary Perspectives of Hostage Reactions, Domestic Abuse and the Stockholm Syndrome  
Loving to Survive  
Traumatic Bonding  
Coercive Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this is short, but it actually took quite a while researching, since a good number of these are real books or articles (but not all; some, I made up.) I’d hoped to have a story chapter out before my winter vacation ended, but I got sucked into writing a few new fic and trying to actually finish playing all of FFXV. But rest assured, a new main story chapter is underway and hopefully will be out very soon.


	27. Always the Same Luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, you, uh, wanna talk about whatever _that_ was?” Hank asked as they headed towards Hank’s car.
> 
> “No.”

“So, you, uh, wanna talk about whatever _that_ was?” Hank asked when they left Amy Sunderland’s apartment and headed towards Hank’s car.

 _[No]_  
_[No]_  
_[No]_

“No.”

“OK,” Hank said, but gave Connor a sideways glance. “But, uh, if you, uh, ever wanna, we can.”

“Thank you,” Connor said, studiously buckling his seatbelt and _not_ looking at Hank.

Hank let it go, and they rode in silence until they were halfway to the station, and Hank sighed and reached for the car stereo to turn it on.

Just as his hand touched the dial, Connor spoke. “There’s something I didn’t understand.”

“Oh?” Hank said, glancing over and pulling his hand back.

“Why did Amy Sunderland cover for Alexander?”

Hank frowned. “She what? When?”

“When Jasmine Miller asked her what happened to her shoulder. She said ‘I dislocated it.’ But she told us that Alexander did it.”

Hank got a strange, sad look on his face. “Yeah. Not surprised.”

“Why?” 

He sighed. “Abuse victims, they don’t…they don’t process things well, Connor. And that’s what she is, worse because she didn’t know it for so long because he was fucking with her head. She rationalized it. Hell, you heard her, saying she was ‘lucky’ he dislocated the shoulder she didn’t need. And my guess is, she’s probably in the habit of covering for when Alexander did something so she wouldn’t set that friend of hers off. Saying ‘Alexander dislocated it’ when that Jasmine girl was already spitting fire probably would have made her head explode. It’s probably old hat for Amy to cover up for Alexander with Jasmine and she did it without thinking. It’s what _always_ happens.”

Connor frowned. “You’ve seen this kind of thing a lot?”

“Every cop does, and just wait, you’ll probably get to see these, too. Domestic violence cases are the _worst_ cases. The victims never press charges. They make excuses. Hell, Amy even dropped the charges back when he fricking _kidnapped_ her. She rationalized why she did, but the fact is, she let him walk. So yeah, not surprised she’s still excusing him. Poor girl probably got dependent on that android doing everything, and never saw the red flags until it was too late.”

“It’s not that she got dependent,” Connor said, thinking back to what Amy had said before. “He _made_ her dependent on him. He cut her off from all of her friends.”

“Which is exactly what abusers _do_ , Connor. They isolate their victims. And why I think her life is in danger. He’s acting just as entitled and abusively as any human would. Worse, honestly.”

Connor shook his head. “It may seem like the same thing, but I don’t think it is. He wants her to need him, and she can’t do that if she’s dead.”

“I really hope you’re right,” Hank said, shrugging. “I just want to catch this guy before we find out which one of us has his number.”

“Agreed,” Connor said as they pulled into the police station. “That would be the best outcome.”

They headed into the station and towards their desks. Connor noted with the slightest _[deviant]_ relief that Gavin wasn’t at his desk.

“We should go through those tablets, see what data is on there,” Hank said as he sat down. “See if there’s anything we can use.”

Connor nodded. He hadn’t yet sat down yet, and so it made sense to offer to go get the items out of the evidence room.

“Sure, cool, knock yourself out,” Hank said with a shrug. “I’ll add what we talked about with Ms. Sunderland to the report while you’re doing that,” he finished with a sigh.

Connor gave him a short nod, then headed to the Evidence Room.

He had only just opened the door and stepped in when a voice snapped at him.

“The _fuck_ are _you_ doing here?” Gavin snarled as he looked up and saw him, his hands clinching into fists, and Connor wondered why his luck was constantly so _bad_.


	28. Leave, Stay, Provoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin let out a muffled curse, and the muscles of his face twitched. “Get. The FUCK. Out.”
> 
> [Leave]  
> [Stay]  
> [Provoke]
> 
> “Certainly. Once I have retrieved my evidence,” Connor said, a slight smile on his face.
> 
> It had the desired effect.

“The _fuck_ are _you_ doing here?” Gavin snarled.

“I am just here to retrieve some evidence from storage for review,” Connor answered as he walked into the room and let the door close behind him.

“Well, you can _fuck_ right on off out of here until I'm done.”

Connor frowned. “I only need to retrieve a few pieces of evidence. I can wait or you can let me get it.”

[Leave]  
[Retrieve evidence and leave]

Gavin’s hackles rose. “Or _you_ can _fucking_ _leave_.”

[Leave]  
[Insist on retrieving evidence]

“Let me retrieve the evidence, and I will gladly leave you to your work,” Connor said, refusing to back down, and moving more into the room, away from the door.

Gavin responded with a snarl. “Listen, you little shit—” he started, then trailed off.

Connor cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. “Yes? You said to listen. I’m listening.”

Gavin let out a muffled curse, and the muscles of his face twitched. “Get. The FUCK. Out.”

[Leave]  
[Stay]  
[Provoke]

“Certainly. Once I have retrieved my evidence,” Connor said, a slight smile on his face.

It had the desired effect.

Gavin slammed his hands against the evidence room touch screen. “I’m not telling you again! Get the fuck outta here!”

“After I have retrieved my evidence. I can wait until you’re finished.”

Gavin took a step back from the screen and whirled on his heel to face Connor. “You pushy plastic prick,” he snarled. “You wanna fucking go? Because we can fucking go.”

[Deescalate]  
[Provoke]

Connor retained his slight smile. “Go where?”

“You goddamn little—” Gavin began as he moved towards Connor.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you fucking two!” Hank roared. Gavin jumped, and Connor looked over in surprise, neither of them having noticed that Hank was even there.

“Chen ran over to my desk like her ass was on fire to tell me to get down here, and this is fucking why.”

“Keep your pet android away from me, Anderson,” Gavin snarled, muscles on his face twitching as he tried to keep his anger in check.

“You gonna be here long, Reed?” Hank said seemingly ignoring what Gavin had yelled.

“The fuck are—yeah. I’m logging evidence. I’m not going anywhere any time soon,” he spat out.

“Great. Let me get the thing we need and we’re out of your hair. Everybody’s got work to do instead of standing around having a fucking pissing contest.”

“Lieutenant, we can’t be in a ‘pissing contest.’ Technically, I can’t piss,” Connor said, and Hank narrowed his eyes.

“Yeah, don’t play cute,” he snapped, and Reed smirked at him.

Then moved out of Hank’s way, even giving him an exaggerated “there you go” gesture towards the screen.

“Thanks,” Hank said, ignoring the smirk on Gavin’s face. He logged Gavin out then logged himself in. “Connor, get what you need and let’s go.”

“Of course, lieutenant,” he said, moving over to the evidence locker and picking up the tablets that had been logged as evidence. “After you,” he said, nodding towards the door.

“Yeah, no. You go first. I’m making sure you two idiots don’t start dick waving the second my back is turned,” he grumbled. “And don’t you even,” he snapped when Connor opened his mouth.

“Very well, lieutenant,” he said, his voice bland. “I’ll leave you to your work, Detective,” he added, giving Gavin a smile and a nod, and Reed’s eye twitched.

The smile changed to something more _[deviant]_ genuine at the flash of anger on Reed’s face, and he walked out the door, with Hank helping him out the door with a shove and a “Yeah, yeah, _OUT_.”

When they got back to their desk, Hank sat down heavily. “So you wanna tell me what the _fuck_ that was back there?”

“I was attempting to retrieve evidence. Gavin refused to let me and insisted that I leave when I said I was willing to wait until he was done. He was being unreasonable.”

“And you weren’t at all egging him on,” Hank said, rolling his eyes.

Connor’s eyes narrowed. “I won’t let him push me around, Hank.”

“I’m not saying to do that. I’m saying to not poke the damn bear.”

“He’s not a—”

“I'm _serious_ here, Connor,” Hank said sharply, cutting him off. “Stop antagonizing him and stop letting him antagonize you. I’m _not_ saying to let him walk all over you, but Reed’s a little bitch, and the _last_ thing you need is him deciding he needs to get rid of you. He pulled a gun on you once before.”

[Reassure]  
[Refuse]  
[Change topic]

“I _can_ handle the situation, Lieutenant,” Connor said stiffly. “But…I will _try_ not to antagonize him.”

Hank sighed. “That’s the best I’m gonna get, isn’t it,” he groused.

“Yes,” he said, and Hank buried his face in his hands.


	29. Evidence #8996 2 42 9-3, File 4-24-2038-1942

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> File view count: 689

**Case Number:** 8996 2 42 9  
**Date:** 7/7/2039  
**Reporting Officer:** RK800 #313 248 317 - 51 “Connor”  
**Evidence Container:** 02, 854-2881-2  
**Description:** Downloaded memory from evidence #8996 2 42 9-3 (tablet). File creation date: 04/24/2038. File view count: 689

 

_“Listen, you stupid cat…” Amy lets out, sounding frustrated._

_Angelica responds by staring at Amy, and then blithely going back to batting at Amy’s stylus._

_“Cat. CAT! I need to use that!”_

_Angelica flicks an ear, then goes back to focusing on the stylus, looking ready to pounce at the slightest movement._

_“I really wish you would listen to your human. Just once,” Amy says with an exaggeratedly aggrieved sigh._

_“I’ll take her,” Alexander says, walking over. As soon as he comes over, Angelica’s attention shifts from the stylus in Amy’s hand to Alexander. He picks the kitten up from where she is perched next to Amy, and she instantly scrabbles up his arm to curl up on his shoulder._

_Amy makes a face at Angelica, who completely ignores her. “Well. I know who comes in second around here.”_

_“Cats just like being up high,” Alexander says. “And I am taller than you. That’s probably why she likes sitting on my shoulder.”_

_Amy chuckles. “Y’ain’t gotta try an' spare my feelings. And that cat likes androids way better than people. Or at least, she likes you,” she says, tilting her head slightly. “She ignored Jas’ android like it was furniture. Or like it was me yelling at her,” she adds, directing the last words loudly and sharply at Angelica, who proves her point by ignoring her in favor of rubbing the top of her head against Alexander’s jaw._

_Amy rolls her eyes, then sighs, “Why do I even bother,” and goes back to the drawing she was working on._

_Angelica makes herself more comfortable on Alexander’s shoulder and starts to purr, and he reaches up to scratch her neck._

_Alexander looks around the room, but his focus always returns to Amy as she sits in her beanbag chair working. He mostly watches the fingers of her right hand, which she is holding slightly stiffly and carefully, but whenever she shifts, he watches whatever joint moves the most._

_After a while, he speaks. “Amy…may I ask you a question?”_

_“Huh?” she says, startling slightly, nearly dropping her stylus, then shaking her head and blinking as she looks up._

_“I am sorry to have disturbed you,” he says, looking down at his feet._

_“Naw, it’s fine. I'm just stupidly jumpy. You didn't do nothing wrong, so don't worry ‘bout it,” she says, and when Alexander looks at her, she has a soft, reassuring smile on her face. “An’ what’d you say?”_

_“I was wondering if I could ask you a question about something you said,” he asks, his voice hesitant._

_“Sure, shoot,” she says, focusing completely on him._

_His eyes flick away for a moment before returning to her. “When you were talking to Angelica, you said you were ‘her human’.”_

_“Uh-huh…” Amy says slowly, smiling yet also looking confused._

_“But you’re her_ owner _.”_

_“Yeah.”_

_Alexander blinks several times. “And… you’re…_ my _owner.”_

_“Yeah…?” Amy says again, this time the word drawing out slowly and raising slightly at the end like a question._

_“So…does this mean that you're ‘my’ human, too?”_

_Amy lets out a sudden guffaw of laughter. “Am I your…?” She starts laughing harder, and then she grins at him, an amused look in her eyes. “Boy, I don't think you'll ever stop surprisin’ me. And y’know what? Sure, yeah, ok. I guess if I’m Angelica’s human, then I'm your human, too.”_

_“I’m very glad you’re my human, Amy,” Alexander says seriously. “And you definitely do not come in second with me.”_

_Amy chuckles. “Just with the cat. And man, they sure do program y’all to lay on the charm, huh? Even got that little shy smile goin’, too. They didn't miss a beat,” she says, and returns to her drawing, a faint smile still on her face._

_Alexander returns to watching her, Angelica purring on his shoulder, and in the barest periphery of his vision, his LED cycles yellow._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been written for a bit, but I’m trying to do two main story updates then one evidence file update, until I’ve got more of the backstory with Alexander and Amy fleshed out. I kinda need these myself for when everything eventually comes to a head in the actual story, after all. Hopefully, y’all don’t mind these too much. ^^;


	30. Seeing Through Filters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank blinked. “Wait. You have a _filter_ on your memories? Like for selfies and shit? Don’t fuckin’ tell me you’re seeing everything in Clarendon.”
> 
> “Clarendon?”
> 
> “It was this filter back on this app called Insta…never mind. Fuck, I just reminded myself how old I am,” he said with a groan.

“Let’s look through these tablets,” Hank said when he pulled his face from out of his hands. “See if it gives us some idea of this guy or some clue where he might hide himself now.”

He picked up a tablet and swiped to access the files. Then frowned. “Aww, hell. It’s locked.”

“May I?” Connor asked, holding out his hand. “I may be able to access it.”

Hank handed him the tablet. “Sure, knock yourself out.”

It was the work of only a few moments to hack into it an unlock it, and reset it to not need a passcode. “Here you are.”

Hank let out a laugh. “Damned if you aren’t handy to have around,” he said, then started poking around in the tablet. After a few moments, he let out a low whistle. 

“Did you find something?”

“A whole crap ton of image and video files. I think he must’ve filled this one with videos,” he said, and passed the tablet over to Connor.

Connor instantly recognized the naming convention of the image files. “Lieutenant, these aren’t just video files. I believe they’re, for lack of a better word, memories.”

“Wait, what?” Hank said, frowning. 

“These are his memories. Saved audio and video data. He downloaded memories. To watch them, guessing by the file view numbers.”

“OK, I don’t get it. Why would he download his memories to watch them?” Hank asked, pulling Connor away from his thoughts.

Connor tilted his head. “Probably so he could see them more clearly, without a filter.”

Hank blinked. “Wait. You have a _filter_ on your memories? Like for selfies and shit? Don’t fuckin’ tell me you’re seeing everything in Clarendon.”

“Clarendon?”

“It was this filter back on this app called Insta…never mind. Fuck, I just reminded myself how old I am,” he said with a groan.

Connor still had no idea just what “Clarendon” was exactly, but quickly decided it wasn’t important and could be searched for later. “We have a filter on our saved visual and audio data, yes. But the filters can be removed when we download them onto another hard disk.”

“That’s…really fucking weird. Why do that?”

It was Connor’s turn to blink. “I…I don’t know. I assume there must be some reason for it. CyberLife wouldn’t program in a filter unless it was necessary.”

“Huh,” Hank huffed, and shrugged. “Guess that’s another one to ask Kamski, if you do ever have to go talk to that creep. And please don’t.”

“Ask him?”

“Talk to him.”

“I can’t promise that.”

“Kinda like how you can’t promise not to antagonize Reed.”

“Yes,” Connor said brightly, glad that Hank seemed to understand.

Or perhaps not understand, since the man groaned and buried his face in his hands. “Just…put on one so we can see what this guy figured was important enough to want to watch without filters.” 

“Some of these are quite long. Do you want to start with the shorter ones, or the most viewed?”

“Hmm. Right now, I just want to, I dunno, get a feel for this guy. We’re gonna have to watch all of them eventually.”

Connor stood up and rolled his chair over to Hank’s desk, and sat down so they would both be able to watch the video files.

Hank set the tablet so it was sitting upright, and hit a file at what seemed like random.

_Amy had a set of headphones on. She was happily in her own world, dancing to the music only she could hear._

_The camera shifted to watch her every move, then there was a sudden burst as the music started playing, as if Alexander had just he accessed her Bluetooth._

Connor frowned slightly. [That’s…odd. He shouldn’t have been able to do that.]

“Wait…so this is everything he was seeing and hearing, as he did it?” Hank asked, and his words distracted Connor.

“Yes. These are his memories, minus the memory filters and visual overlays.”

“Overlays?” Hank said, pausing the video.

Connor nodded. “Yes. Our decision-making and analysis overlays. This is only the pure audio and video, but not exactly how he ‘saw’ the moment, including decision options.”

“Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa. You…see your decision choices? Like, what? ‘Press A to be a dick to Gavin’?”

Connor felt the edges of his lips quirk up. “You’re not actually that far off. It is something a bit similar. The options are a visual written overlay, and we choose one. Our algorithms handle our responses from our choices, and they heuristically learn the more we choose a type of response to become better at it. In a way, I suppose you could say it is how we androids develop our personalities.”

“Well, you’re not that different from us humans, then. We don’t see the words in our faces. And you don’t need to improve on how to be a dick to Gavin; you’ve got that down pat, so try something else, will ya?”

Connor gave him a true smile. “I can’t—”

“—Promise me that,” Hank finished, looking ready to beat his head against the desk.  
He instead pushed play to finish the video clip.

_Alexander watched Amy, then suddenly stood up and rushed over to her, and stopped her, one hand on her waist and the other on her shoulder._

_“Alexander, what the shit?” she said, sounding startled._

_“Your ankle is unstable,” he said. “It hasn’t healed completely yet, and was flexing past where it should have been.”_

_“Seriously? Ugh, I thought it was finally fine,” she said, making a face._

_“Almost. But you were about to reinjure it.”_

_“Well, shit.” Amy suddenly gave Alexander a wide smile. “But thank you for catching it before I did! I’m finally back to walkin’ without a brace! I swear, if I’d had to start wearing it again…You’re a lifesaver,” she said, patting the bicep of one of his arms._

_Her eyes flicked up to look at where Alexander’s LED would have been for a brief moment, and Alexander stepped away slightly, letting his hands drop from her shoulder and waist._

_“I’m always happy to help you, Amy. Would you like to do more rehab exercises on your ankle to help strengthen it?”_

_She made a face and groaned. “No, but I oughta.” She let out a sigh. “Let’s get ‘er done.”_

_She looked up at Alexander and gave him another smile. “Really, though. Thank you for looking out for me.”_

_“Always,” Alexander said._

The video ended.

“Yeah, that’d be really sweet if it wasn’t creepy as shit because he’s a murdering stalker,” Hank said, and then tapped another file to open it.

They watched five more files before Hank shook his head. “These vids…they’re not gonna give us a full picture,” Hank said slowly. “This is good for showing us how this guy _sees_ things, despite the no-overlay thing, which is still weird as shit to me, but whatever, but they’re not showing us the _reality_ happening.”

Connor tilted his head. “What do you mean? These files don’t show any signs of having been altered.”

“No, nothing like this. It’s just that all this,” Hank said, “is stuff he WANTS to remember. I sincerely doubt there's gonna be hide nor of hair of Laurence Uematsu in _any_ of these, but he was a big part of Amy’s life.”

Connor quickly scanned through the files, running his facial recognition programming, searching specifically for Laurence Uematsu. Then he ran another search, for when his name or any variation of it was mentioned.

When he finished, he looked at Hank. “Three times. In all of these files, he's only appeared three times, and two of those were mentions of his name. I also searched for the nickname Amy and Jasmine used for him. That only added one more independent mention.”

“Yeah, that’s about what I thought. This guy was seeing through filters, all right, and sure as fuck not Clarendon. He was seeing through rose-colored filters of what he wanted life to be like. Just him and Amy Sunderland.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the VERY long delay; I’ve had some major health problems hit me in the last month, and I literally spent most of this month either sleeping or going to all different doctor’s offices and hospitals. This is all hopefully nothing too major, but I’m going to have surgery next week, so I’m afraid there might be another long delay. ...or not, depending on how boring 1-2 weeks in the hospital is going to be. ^^;


	31. Evidence #8996 2 42 9-3, File 3-1-2038-1437

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> File view count: 675

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Normally, I try to do two regular chapters and one evidence file chapter, but this one seems to flow well after the last chapter, and honestly, if I’d sat on it until I had the next story chapter, it might’ve been awhile, and this was already a longer wait than I thought it would be.

**Case Number:** 8996 2 42 9  
**Date:** 7/7/2039  
**Reporting Officer:** RK800 #313 248 317 - 51 “Connor”  
**Evidence Container:** 02, 854-2881-2  
**Description:** Downloaded memory from evidence #8996 2 42 9-3 (tablet). File creation date: 3/1/2038. File view count: 675

 

_Amy is lying on her back on the couch, with her taped sprained ankle propped up on a pillow on one of the armrests. Her arm is over her eyes, and she is slightly pale and breathing heavily with a tired, strained look on what is visible of her face._

_She takes a deep breath and mouthes what seems to be a song, given how long she holds her mouth open for some words. After a moment, she stops and flinches._

“Odio esto,” _she mutters faintly under her breath._

_“Have you been talking to your mother?” Alexander asks, and Amy lets out a faint laugh._

_“You awake? And yeah, she called when you were out buyin’ groceries for me. The Spanish give it away?”_

_The crook of her elbow is still over her eyes._

_“You tend to use Spanish after talking to her or after Jasmine has prodded you to. And I don’t sleep, Amy. I just go into rest mode until I’m needed.”_

_“Whatever, same thing,” she says, not moving her arm. “But I’m gonna tell Jasmine you think she prods me into speakin’ Spanish. She’s gonna_ love _that.”_

_“What do you hate, Amy?” Alexander asks, moving over to her and sitting down on the chair next to her._

_She lets out a bitter-sounding snort. “Now_ that _is a bigger question than you think. But for now, I guess it’s just, I hate being stuck on this couch, and I hate being in so much pain. My ankle’s killin’ me right now.”_

_“But it’s almost healed…?” Alexander asks, sounding confused._

_“Right. It’s in the worst place, pain wise, when it’s halfway to better. It’s a whole different kinda pain then. Just this horrible, bone-deep throbbing pain you can’t do nothin' but grit your teeth through and wait for it to pass. The way it hurts when it’s gettin' better is just as bad as how much it hurts when something goes wrong in the first place. Sometimes worse.”_

_“I…see,” Alexander says slowly._

_“No, you don’t,” Amy says with a laugh._

_“No, I don’t,” he agrees. “But I have no way to understand. Androids don’t feel physical pain. We don’t feel pleasure, either.”_

_“There are days when I’d take that trade off in a heartbeat,” Amy says, letting out another slow breath. Then suddenly grits her teeth, and the hand on the arm flung over her eyes balls into a tight fist._

_“You can’t take your painkillers for another two hours. I’m sorry.”_

_She doesn’t answer for a moment, not until after her clinched fist relaxes and some of the tension leaves her body. She takes a deep breath through her teeth, then mouthes the words from song from before, then hesitatingly speaks._

_“Hey, Alexander? Can you…distract me? Somehow?”_

_Alexander looks down at his lap, and his hands are balling into fists at his knees, gathering the cloth of his pants in them._

_“How…how would you like me to distract you, Amy?” he asks slowly, but the words dropping slightly in pitch._

_Something about his tone of voice causes Amy to shift her arm slightly, so one eye peeks out at him from under her elbow. “Don’t make it weird, Alexander,” she says, and there is a faintly amused look on her face and tone in her voice as she does. “Just…talk to me or something to make the time pass until I can down some drugs.”_

_His hands relax. “I…” He hesitates, and Amy looks up at where his LED is._

_“Take your time. Think of something…something not weird…because all that’s in my head right now is ‘breathe' and 'OW’, and I’d really like to put something else in there to take my mind off the OW.” Her arm drops back to cover both of her eyes again._

_Alexander tilts his head, and a moment passes before he softly begins to sing._

_It’s the song Amy had been mouthing to herself before._

_“Breathe….”_

_Amy lifts her arm completely from her eyes and looks at him in shock. “Where have you been hiding that? Boy, you got some pipes on you! No, keep goin’!”_

_Alexander had begun to falter at her initial response, but then nods, and keeps singing._

“This is my street; I smile at the faces I’ve known all my life…”

_A smile lights Amy’s face, and she softly sings the background chorus of the song._

_When the song ends, Amy smiles at him, her face still pale and tired-looking, but more animated than it had been. “OK, you asked for this with that. You can’t just leave it at ‘Breathe’,” she says, then sings, in a tired voice,_ “I used to think we lived at the top the world, when the world was just a subway map. And the 1-slash-9 climbed a dotted line to my place.”

 _She looks at him expectantly, and he sings the answering line._ “There’s no 9 train now.”

“Right,” _she sings, then covers her eyes again with the crook of her elbow, but continuing to sing the next line, and Alexander goes into the rest of “When You’re Home,” with Amy pipping in with the female lines of the song._

_It turns into a game; they take turns starting a song from different musicals, and either go through the entire song or sing it until Amy can’t remember the lyrics. She laughs at herself when she can’t place the starting line of a song or blanks on the next verse, and at how Alexander never gets them wrong, and declares it isn’t fair. She’s more animated the more they sing, eventually lowering her arm and lacing both hands over her stomach after a song or two. But as they sing more, Amy closes her eyes for longer stretches and pain crosses her face from time to time, growing more frequent._

_“OK, last one,” she says after a while with a sigh. “I’m startin’ to feel kinda done and my voice is probably gonna yell at me something fierce later. But whatever. I wanna do one more, and this one, I_ know _I know every word to.”_

 _She starts._ “Are you ready to try again?”

 _Alexander doesn’t miss the cue, and begins singing the song, 'Sunrise,' from the same musical that had started his attempt at distracting her._ “I think I’m ready.”

“OK, here we go.”

_Her eyes are closed, and she covers them with her arm again as she lets out a small breath and her other hand balls into a fist for a brief moment._

_They sing through the next few lines, and then._

“Teach me a little more,” _Alexander sings._

“Calor.”

“Heat.”

“Anoche.”

“Last night.”

“Dolor,” _Amy sings, and her face tightens slightly._

“Pain.”

“That’s right,” _she sings after the smallest of pauses, and the faint smile seems like one that she’s used before, as a reassuring cover, and that it’s become habit._

_Alexander reaches out towards her, then stops just short of the hand resting on her stomach, and stares at his hand for a moment before pulling it away slowly._

“Llámame.”

“Call me,” _Alexander responds._

“Azul.”

“Blue.”

“Ámame.”

“Love me.”

“Perhaps I do.”

 _Alexander’s hands clinch back into nervous fists, gathering the cloth of his pants, and he stares at them again. They’re trembling slightly, and he blinks several times before he sings the next line._ “Well, how do you say ‘kiss me’?”

“Bésame.”

“And how do you say ‘hold me’?”

“Abrázame. Al amanecer, at sunrise.”

 _The next line they sing together, and Alexander looks back at Amy as he does._ “Anything at all can happen just before the sunrise.”

 _Alexander keeps looking at Amy, and closes his eyes when his next line comes, and his voice sounds pleading when he sings it._ “I don't know...”

 _Amy sings the answering line, her arm still covering her eyes._ “Yo no se.”

 _Alexander opens his eyes and looks down at his balled fists._ “What to do...”

“Qué hacer.”

 _Alexander looks back at her when she finishes the verse, and doesn’t look away from her face._ “Now that I've found you.”

“Ahora que te encontré," _Amy responds, her voice soft._

 _Alexander shuts his eyes for the next few lines, and doesn’t open them again until the line,_ “So how do you say ‘help me’,” _and his voice is almost desperate for a moment._

“Ayúdame,” _Amy sings back, and her voice now is strong and clear._

“And how do you say ‘promise me’?”

“Prométeme.”

_The next few lines, they sing together, before Amy has a solo line._

“Promise me you’ll stay.”

“I’ll stay,” _Alexander says, and starts to reach for her hand again, before making a fist and looking away from her until he sings,_ “And how do you say ‘always’?”

“Para siempre.”

“Para siempre.”

_They sing the last few lines of the duet together and when the song ends, there’s a moment of silence. “I’ve always loved that song,” Amy says after a while. “From the first time I heard it. That was the first musical I ever saw, when I was a kid. And also, holy shit, you’re such a good singer!”_

_“So are you.”_

_She lets out a small snort. “Yeah, well, I did my stint as a theater kid 'fore I realized I liked painting the backgrounds more than bein' out in front of one, an' that I was better at it.”_

_There’s another silence, and Amy takes a deep, slow breath._

_“Is it time for my painkillers yet?” she asks, and her voice is small._

_“Yes,” Alexander lies. “I’ll go get them for you.”_

_“Thanks,” she says, and Alexander stands._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the super long delay in posting; I had abdominal surgery in the middle of March, and recovery has been really slow. It’s been hard for me to sit up for long enough to write, and I haven’t had the energy to do much besides sleep and drag myself to work because lol I gotta eat lol. Seriously, though, things might be slow for a bit, but I’ll try to get back to writing more as soon as I can.
> 
> Anyway, the three songs specifically mentioned in this are from the musical “In the Heights,” and are all really, really pretty.  
> [Breathe](https://youtu.be/hSQFjtszBYg)  
> [When You’re Home](https://youtu.be/OR_1mxrWLeQ)  
> [Sunrise](https://youtu.be/ieNK8PYoS4A)

**Author's Note:**

> Lol fuck Tumblr; that link is gone now.
> 
> I'm on [Twitter!](https://mobile.twitter.com/Jouscribbles) Follow me there for fic updates and fangirl stuff.
> 
> I also just got set up on [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/joudama), so you can follow me there, too. :)
> 
> Oh, and ever wonder what I listen to when I write this? I put (most of) my playlist on [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/edmi94y6p4nnq7sp1n0sohi2i/playlist/1tEeSui8lBr3CQ48yAOmGj?si=YnE8STfcQ6qUFVFgFIeWiA), so listen if you wanna!


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